


Pure Evil: Complete Edition

by Sefiru



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Anal Sex, Autofellatio, BDSM, Body Worship, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Dominant Goku, Excuse Plot, Exhibitionism, Fisting, Food Sex, Gohan wants brain bleach, Implausible plot, Intelligent Goku, M/M, Martial Arts, Massage, Multi, OC Villains, Oozaru sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Phone Sex, Pole Dancing, Rimming, Saiyan Culture, Sub Vegeta, Tail Play, Teasing, Temperature Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Trust, Video Sex, Wax Play, Whipping, instincts, pain play, rope, service topping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 16:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 93,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sefiru/pseuds/Sefiru
Summary: Goku is stronger than Vegeta, body, mind and soul, and that's really all that matters to a Saiyan. Originally posted on AdultFanFiction lo these many years ago.





	1. Pure Evil

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever fanfic, in the ancient days of 2006. It was originally posted as a series of fics, but I plan to post it here as one story as the parts are relatively short. Enjoy!

## Part 1

“I don’t have time for this.” Effortlessly powering up, Kakarott slams me into the cliff wall and holds me there. I blink in surprise. I’ve only been taunting him as usual, not even with much anger, and he’s never reacted like _this_ before. Usually he laughs it off, occasionally loses his temper – but this is neither. He’s calm. Too calm; as if he can’t be bothered to fight me, and just intends to smack me down. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“The world is not in danger from androids, Ice-jins, genetic experiments or anything else,” he continues, “and I see no reason why I should continue to salve your ego by putting up with your petty insults.” I can’t hide my shock at this announcement, and he smirks at my expression. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for that ‘Goku’ act, Vegeta. I thought you were smarter than that.”

I look away, embarrassed. I really should have known better; nobody can be that stupid and fight that well. I had let myself be tricked …self-deception has always been a defense of mine. I convinced myself I was evil, to deny how miserable I felt every time I destroyed a planet. I agreed that Kakarott was an imbecile because then I wouldn’t be second best. I forced myself to be arrogant so that I would not admit that I wanted …

“What’s the matter, prince? Aren’t you going to fight back?” I blink again. Kakarott has had me pinned to the rock for more than two minutes and the thought of escaping has never crossed my mind.

“Let me go, Kakarott.” It doesn’t sound very convincing.

He leans in, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. Not until you tell me what’s gotten into you.” He lifts his free hand and wraps it around my throat – not pressing, just there. I still make no move to escape. The rational part of my mind insists that this can’t be happening, but a deeper, simpler part is screaming with joy.

And now I understand what’s going on. As I’ve been telling him for years, Saiyans are all about strength. My title and bloodline are irrelevant and so is his lower class origin; Kakarott is stronger. Period. And now instinct is taking its course.

A species as aggressive as Saiyans must have a control mechanism if it’s not going to kill itself off, not to mention form a functional society. Hence this … submission response. My pride is ruined but I can’t bring myself to care; the instinct is too strong.

I think Kakarott is starting to understand too. There is a gleam in his eye and he rubs his thumb along my jawline. I purr, and he grins. I’m angry at myself for giving in so easily, the conscious part of my mind that says I’m too proud to knuckle under – too suspicious to trust anyone with that power.

But however much I claim otherwise, I do trust Kakarott. With life, with honor, even with my identity when we fuse. And he returns that trust a hundredfold; who else does he ask to guard his back, to watch over his family, to take over the task when he falls? That simple fact brings me more pride than all the power, all the victories, all the titles I’ve accumulated. _Kakarott trusts me_. I relax under his grip; the instincts are strong in him too, he will not willingly hurt something that doesn’t fight back. Or that can’t – which would explain his human friends, for they are weak as Saiyan children. As much as I have mocked him about it over the years, where it matters Kakarott is Saiyan to the core.

He presses his body close and my legs fall open, all traces of resistance long gone. “Say it, Vegeta.” I know what he wants to hear.

“You are strongest. Kakarott.”

“Looks like the prince knows his place.” He chuckles, sending shivers up my spine. I’m shocked at how easy this is. I’ve always imagined myself as a leader of others, but that may be just another self-deception. Or lack of worthwhile candidates; Frieza was simply despicable, ‘Goku’ a musclebound idiot. But have a true warrior appear – strong mind, strong heart, strong body – and overpower me, and I turn into this unresisting subordinate and _like_ it. My father would turn in his grave. But then, my father never was in good touch with his instincts.

Kakarott leans in and bites my ear. I gasp as a wave of fire rolls over my body, reminding me that there are other instincts in play. He feels my reaction and laughs again. I’ve done without for far too long; I’ve even been desperate enough to bed that human woman and get a cub on her, and though Trunks would make any father proud, humans just don’t satisfy me. From the way Kakarott is acting, he feels the same. He starts to nibble his way down my neck and I know I’m not getting out of this with my virginity intact.

Now his hands are under my shirt. I squirm, reach up to grope him in return, and he growls. “Put your hands behind your head, Vegeta.” They’re there before I think about it; the obedience is automatic. And I have never heard that tone in his voice before, not even during a deathmatch. It sends a flutter of apprehension through me. For all my knowledge of Saiyan instincts, I’ve never experienced them in action before.

A flash of ki leaves my clothes on the ground in shreds. Kakarott steps back to observe me; although his hands no longer restrain me, I don’t move. I can’t move. I watch him through half-closed eyes as his gaze sweeps over me. This is the first time I’ve ever been naked in front of him and it adds to my already obvious arousal. And he just stands there, watching me, until I can’t stand it anymore.

“Kakarott …” Another first – I’m begging.

He smirks, and grasps the collar of his shirt. Slowly peels it off and lets it fall. The boots are next. Then the pants. I realize I’ve never seen him naked either … I can’t tear my eyes off him now. If I’d known about this years ago, I would not have so much as looked at the human woman. But I don’t get much time to enjoy the view.

“Turn around,” Kakarott growls, and I do so without question. Then his hands are on me again, tracing patterns on my skin. Around my shoulder blades, down my spine, over my ribs, reaching around to my nipples. I press against them helplessly but he pulls back, keeping the touch light. Everywhere they go, they leave a trail of fire. Why does he torment me like this?

Because he can. Because he is stronger.

His hands come to rest cupping my buttocks. His teeth close on my shoulder and I cry out; the pain is almost enough to send me over the edge. And then … and then … his shaft is rubbing against my entrance, already slick – when did he have time to do that? He buries himself in me with a single thrust, and I forget everything.

Forget that I’m a prince and that he’s a third-class nobody. Forget the years we’ve been enemies and rivals. All I know is that I’ve been subjugated. Conquered. _Claimed_ by a mightier warrior, and never again will I be master of my own destiny. I’m so eager for it that it doesn’t even hurt.

I’m howling from the moment he plunges into me and I know I won’t last. He moves one hand to my neck to hold me still against the cliff. And he thrusts hard into me; the sensations quickly become unbearable and suddenly my roaring stops, my body too wracked by my climax to make a sound.

Kakarott is not far behind me – his roar is loud enough to startle the birds. I can feel his seed filling me and that sensation brings me a second jolt of pleasure. I slump against the rock, drained. He laps the blood from the bite and pulls out of me. For a moment I’m afraid he’s going to leave me like this.

But no, he’s only picking up his clothes. Then he picks _me_ up, slings me over his shoulder. He touches fingers to forehead and we’re suddenly somewhere else. A dark bedroom. He dumps me on the bed and walks off somewhere – I hear running water, he must be washing up – then returns and lies down beside me. He doesn’t say a word, just throws an arm over me. I smile and relax into sleep.

***

## Part 2

In the morning I wake up more easily than I have in decades. I know exactly why: Kakarott is sleeping naked next to me. I remember the previous day’s events as soon as I wake up –I dream it in the moments before waking. I feel transformed. Kakarott stripped my false pride from me in a moment, and at the same time gave me the true pride I had never known before. _Kakarott trusts me_. Even now I could reach back and crush his throat before he has a chance to wake. But I won’t. _Kakarott wants me_. Without his own masks, he is a superlative example of the Saiyan race; that I’m strong enough to interest him is highly flattering.

The Prince of All Saiyans thinks Kakarott’s attention is flattering. My ancestors are having apoplexy in the afterlife, and it serves them right, the insufferable bastards. And he _will_ have me as a lover. I still don’t take no for an answer.

He stirs behind me and sits up. “Still here, I see.”

“If you think I have any objections, Kakarott, you’re as big a fool as you pretend to be.”

That sets the tone for the rest of the day. He lends me some clothes – my own are presumably still lying in small pieces on the sparring ground – and I’m astonished that he owns something other than orange. Then we talk. He tells me how Chichi threw him out once she figured out how intelligent he really was. I relate how every time he pounded me into the dirt, it left me raging hard; no one ever knew because I wear a cup. And I tell him about the first time I saw him go Super Saiyan, as I lay dying in the battle with Frieza. That single moment of pure awe, untainted by envy; the urge, never realized, to bow at his feet.

On hearing this he stands up, ascends to Super Saiyan. Planting his fists on his hips, he tilts an eyebrow at me as if to say, well?

My first reaction is to lick my lips. He’s as magnificent now as he was then. And as awe-inspiring. Free of my drive to surpass him, I do what I should have done long ago. I rise from my seat, step over to him, and kneel.

He runs a hand through my hair, finding the sweet spots behind my ears. “This is one thing I’ve always liked about you. No hesitation.”

“Hesitation is pointless.”

“It happens anyway.” He releases his transformation. “I want to learn more about our people.”

“I have an extensive library. I’ll have to start teaching you the Saiyan language.”

“No need,” he says. In Saiyan. Once again I cannot hide my shock. “That blow to the head didn’t erase everything, you know.”

I breathe deeply. “In that case, I can think of other ways to spend the afternoon.”

***

It’s inevitable that our new living arrangements will come out eventually, but it’s still a surprise when it actually happens. It starts with a simple knock on the door. From the ki we can tell it’s Bulma, so Kakarott pulls up his pants and goes to answer it. I can hear her demanding to see me. She sounds worried – not that she loves anything besides her work, but she does care in a friendly sort of way.

“I’m afraid he’s rather tied up at the moment,” Kakarott replies. He’s using his Goku voice, which I still despise, though now I can at least find it amusing.

“So he is here,” the woman says, and then when he makes no move to stand aside, “I’m not leaving until I see him.” Now there is an effective threat. Kakarott lets her in.

She runs into the room and stops short at the sight that greets her. Me. Naked, kneeling against the wall, hands chained above my head. As she stands gaping, Kakarott pads in behind her. “I told you he was tied up.”

Her brow furrows. She whirls and aims a slap at him, but he easily intercepts her hand. I smirk behind her back; he’s put aside his Goku persona, and nobody touches Kakarott without permission. Not even me.

“You bastard,” she hisses. “How could you abuse him this way?”

This time I speak up. “Saiyans do not abuse, woman.”

“Those aren’t ki restraints, Bulma. He could get out of them if he wanted to.”

The look on her face as she processes this is priceless. To her it must be a bizarre idea: Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans and-don’t-you-dare-forget-it, _willingly_ chained naked to the wall. And by gentle and mild-mannered Goku, of all people. How well our respective masks have deceived those around us.

She looks from one to the other. “You – you perverts!” she exclaims, and flees out the door. I sigh; Bulma always was hopelessly vanilla.

“How long until everyone knows, do you think?”

“I don’t care, Kakarott. If they don’t understand that this is pure joy, that’s their problem.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Pure joy? Funny, I thought you said once your heart was pure evil.”

I blush. I could be such a blowhard in those days. Hmm … I wonder if I can put that talent for grandstanding to good use? That will take some planning. But as for right now – “I may have been once, but now I’m all yours.”

“So you are, Vegeta. Now where were we?” He takes off his pants.

***

A few days later we come home from sparring to find all four of our boys waiting for us. Gohan, Goten and Trunks look nervous, but Mirai Trunks just leans expressionless against the wall. Kakarott marches in and sits in the big armchair and I stand beside him, arms crossed. We look like an enthroned king and his henchman; appropriate.

“To what do we owe this visit?” Kakarott asks, as if it isn’t obvious.

The brats glance at each other. Goten begins, “We heard the two of you were …”

“…sleeping together,” Trunks finishes.

“That’s true.”

“And Bulma said you had Vegeta chained up.”

“That’s also true.”

They stare. “But you hate Goku,” Gohan says.

“Hn. Kakarott is more than just Goku, boy.” Now they take a second look at him and their faces change as they realize who exactly is sitting before them. Not Goku the overgrown child, easily distracted and scatterbrained; but the undefeated fighter, who could penetrate any enemy’s weaknesses, who didn’t know the meaning of surrender: Kakarott. A man I would happily follow to hell and back as often as necessary. And the boys have Saiyan instincts too, even if they’re half-bloods; I can see the submission take hold.

“But – ” Trunks this time. “But you keep saying that the House of Vegetasei is strongest of the Saiyans.”

“Because for centuries we were. Now that someone stronger has appeared, our claim is finished.”

Kakarott looks at Mirai. “You know something. Spill it.”

“Kakarott. In my timeline you claimed Vegeta right after he first went Super Saiyan. It’s the House of Kakarott, there. You will have no argument from me.” And he bows slightly – which is amazing, the boy is as stiff-necked as I am. I can see why he never mentioned this before. I probably would have strangled him.

After a few more reassurances that we haven’t gone crazy, Kakarott herds them out; true to his word, Mirai backs him up and we are left alone at last.

“So, shall I start calling you Prince Kakarott?”

“Ha. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

***

## Part 3 (The Pole Dance)

At last I have everything prepared. Of course Kakarott knows something is up as soon as he comes home. “Vegeta! Why is there a pole in our living room?”

I smirk and hand him a soda. “It’s for my surprise. Take a seat and I’ll set up the rest of it.” I slink into the kitchen to finish my preparations.

“This had better be good,” Kakarott growls after me, but he does as I ask. I quickly change clothes, then click the remote control to dim the lights and start the music. A bass note rumbles through the house, starting slowly, but it quickly builds to a thundering beat. I wait for the right moment and strut onto my stage. Kakarott’s eyes lock onto my body and I know I’ve chosen the right outfit: a parody of my blue-and-white battle dress, leather pants, silk shirt, silver mesh belt. White leather cuffs and collar. And, gods help me, the shoes, high heeled sandals with broad white leather straps that run halfway up my calf. They look like a cross between Roman Legion and bondage. I can tell Kakarott likes them because he’s purring at them.

I shoot him a smoldering glance and walk up to the pole. Wrap both hands around it and slowly slide them up. Then I press my belly against it, down – then up again; when my hands are as high as I can reach, I turn around and rub my back on the pole, side to side, my hands holding it above my head. My eyes are half-closed and unfocused, both to look like I’m lost in the music, and because I’m concentrating on the steps of my dance through an increasing haze of lust. This routine looks spontaneous but every action is calculated for maximum effect, and I can see it’s working. From the look on Kakarott’s face, the only reason I’m not under him on the floor is that he knows there’s more to come. I smirk in my mind; time for the next stage.

I turn to face the pole again, this time wrapping my body around it like a giant cat. Under cover of this action I undo the latches on my cuffs and then slide them off my hands, tossing them into the shadows with a flick. Then as I bend over with the pole sliding against my ass, I push the straps of my shoes down and kick them away. Good riddance. Now that my feet are free I wrap them around the pole as well, grinding myself into it as if I can’t get enough of it. I wish it were Kakarott I was doing this to, but he’d never stand still long enough to let me!

My back is to the pole again and I writhe against it, then start opening my shirt, one button at a time. I need all my self-control to keep from simply tearing it off. I don’t need to fake my relief as the shirt hits the ground; I run my hands over my chest, my abs and then my hips. The belt is next to go. Now I drape myself shamelessly on the pole, licking it, every millimeter of skin craving stimulation. I force myself to maintain my slow pace. Eventually, as one of my hands strokes the pole, the other reaches the fly of my pants and opens it. A low growl greets the action but I don’t dare look at Kakarott – I’m too close to the edge myself.

Slowly rotating my hips, I slide the pants down. I took forever to practice this move and it pays off; although I’m working one-handed, the pants descend smoothly, inch by inch. To the floor, and then kicked aside. All I’m wearing now is the white collar and a pair of black briefs. Almost done; I’m covered in sweat, gasping, trembling, I can’t hold myself together much longer. I circle the pole one last time and step away from it.

I don’t play around now, I grab the waistband of the briefs in both hands. I throw back my head and with a silent roar I tear the garment off my body, at last exposing my aching flesh. I lay my hands on my thighs and slowly run them up, sinking to the floor at the same time. My knees hit the ground spread wide apart, and my fingers continue up my torso, crossing over my chest. They reach my neck; caress my throat, as Kakarott likes to do, then join each other at the back, digging into my hair. I bend back until my shoulders are resting on the floor; a moment later the music thunders to a stop. Perfect timing.

Kakarott is on me in seconds. He doesn’t even bother to take off his clothes, he just frees his cock from his pants before sinking into me. He takes me hard, as I intended; I am already prepared and slick. I move into his thrusts as best I can in this position. His motion slams me into the floor with each stroke, and soon his bellow echoes through the house. I’m right behind him with my silent climax.

He lies on top of me for a long moment. This is one of the things I like best: the feeling of his weight, the heat of his body. Even though in this case it’s putting a cramp in my legs, which are still doubled under me.

“Well, Kakarott, would you say _that_ was pure evil?” 

“Definitely.” His teeth graze my throat. “I like the collar.”

I untangle my hands to scratch him behind the ears. “I thought so.”


	2. Pure Evil 2: Son of Pure Evil

#### Part 1

His father had changed. Gohan studied him across the paper-strewn table as they worked, wondering how to quantify the difference. At first glance he was much the same; the broad smile still came easily to his face, he still loved to eat and spar and spend time with friends and family. His gentleness and compassion were as they had always been.

What was missing was his goofyness. Childishness, to be honest, that made both friends and enemies think of him as a bumbling fool. It turned out that they had seen his true personality only in battle: the warrior who gave no quarter, took no bullshit, and never, ever gave in. These last six months he had brought that attitude into his daily life – most of the Z fighters had been surprised, and perhaps a bit frightened, but they all had newfound respect for their friend and leader. Nobody called him Goku anymore.

“Finished,” Kakarott announced, and Gohan turned his attention to the large sheet in the center of the table. It was a map of New Namek, and his father had been writing lines and stars on it representing his travels there. Gohan pointed to a large red circle.

“This is where the spaceship landed?”

“Yes, and these crosses are where we found the Dragonballs. I wrote in the times as close as I can remember them.”

“Wow, thanks. I’m impressed that you remembered all that stuff.” But not surprised. Nothing got past Kakarott. Gohan had often wondered why his mother had thrown Goku out of the house; now it looked like she had seen Kakarott lurking underneath, and he was more than she was able to handle.

“Why do you want to go back there, anyway?”

Gohan dragged his mind back to the topic. “Well, we were pretty busy the last time we were there.”

“True.”

“And I really want to take more time to study the place – uh – I mean, I like the fighting and all and …”

“Hush, Gohan, I don’t mind. After all, there is more than one kind of power in this universe.”

Gohan smiled happily. “Where I really want to visit is Vegetasei, but there’s a little problem with that.”

“No kidding. Have you looked at Vegeta’s library yet?”

“No, I didn’t think of that!”

Kakarott chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. “I’ll get him to lend them to you.”

“Thanks, dad! Where is he, anyway?”

“In the hangar with Piccolo, checking over the spacecraft.”

“You know, I would never imagine Vegeta as an engineer.”

“He has many hidden talents.”

“Waugh! Too much information!”

Gohan didn’t know exactly what had happened between Kakarott and Vegeta that had brought about this change; the first he had heard of it was Bulma pitching a fit over his father pulling Vegeta into some unspecified perversion. But since the two of them started sleeping together, Kakarott was imperturbable. He stood like a king, and the little things that used to irritate him seemed to slide off him with the contempt they deserved; not even Gotenks could get a rise out of him. And as for Vegeta …! The former prince practically lived as Kakarott’s slave, but he was even more infernally confident than he’d been before. It was bizarre.

“Anything else you want to do here?”

“Nah, I think I’m done for today.”

“All right. It’s about time for dinner.” Kakarott folded the map, and Gohan put it and the other papers away in his bookbag. They both walked out into Capsule Corporation’s atrium, which was a sort of central meeting place for the Z fighters; there was a buffet there perpetually stocked with food in amounts sufficient to feed a pack of hungry Saiyans.

Kakarott looked around to see who was present. And then ensued a scene which less than a year ago would have had Gohan staring with disbelief.

“Vegeta!” Kakarott bellowed.

A minute later, Vegeta entered the room, walked straight up to him and knelt at his feet. “How may I serve you, Kakarott?”

The first time he’d done that in public, Krillin had fainted dead away and Tien and Yamcha had both needed a strong drink afterwards.

“I want you to lend Gohan your books so he can study Vegetasei,” Kakarott said. Immediately Vegeta pulled a capsule from his belt and gave it to Gohan.

“Those are irreplaceable, boy. Any damage comes out of your hide.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Gohan carefully tucked the library capsule in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Let’s eat,” said Kakarott.

“Want an appetizer?” 

“Why not? Stand up.”

Gohan didn’t catch what was going on until Kakarott seized his partner’s hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. “Aaaaugh!” He clapped his hands over his eyes, trying to shut out the sight of his elders snaking tongues into each others’ mouths … and he could _hear_ them too, purring and moaning as if they weren’t in public where people were trying to eat. After much too long they broke apart.

“Now that,” said Kakarott, “is a good way to whet a man’s appetite.”

Vegeta just smirked. 

***

#### Part 2

It’s daybreak as Kakarott teleports us to the sparring ground. The sudden dawn light makes his gi glow red as he grins down at me. “Ready?”

“Always.” I step away from him and soar into the air, taking my fighting stance. He hovers in front of me in his own starting position, one fist forward, the other held high, then he rushes at me. I dodge the punch by a hair and throw one of my own, towards his ribs where there’s a small opening in his defense. He manages to get his arm down in time to block; that flaw has been corrected. He tries to get behind me and I spin around to face him, arms raised to block. I deflect his blow; his momentum carries him past me and I lunge after him, trying to catch him by the neck. But he grabs my wrist, pulls me over his shoulder and the next thing I know I’m in a hammerlock. This is new! Improvising, I turn a backflip in his arms, kick him in the chest, and fly away. The fight goes on.

I love this. It’s as good as the sex, not least because Kakarott’s hands are all over me. And the display of his power makes me hot in ways I never thought possible. The prospect of _defeat_ is what gives the fight its thrill; I live for the feeling of dirt slamming into my back, and I know that Kakarott relishes the idea that I might one day beat him. We always start at normal power, working on technique, looking for gaps in defenses and trying out new attacks. Then when we’re warmed up, we ascend and fight all out. Sparring with him is a privilege and I give it my all, showing him my power, proving that I am worthy. But he doesn’t ascend to Super Saiyan 3; when the mere sight of you makes your opponent go weak in the knees, there is not much point to it.

“Big Bang!” I shoot the beam of ki at him. He blocks perfectly with crossed wrists and replies with,

“Kame hame ha!” I dodge the blast but it clips me on the hip, sending me tumbling through the air before I regain control of my flight. We’re both at Super Saiyan 2 and new craters are appearing on the already ravaged landscape.

“Final Flash!” To my surprise the attack lands squarely, but my advantage doesn’t last long.

“Ten times kame hame ha!” Body meets ground at high velocity and I utter a grunt that’s more than half moan. Gods that’s good. I stand up smirking, ready to provoke him into doing it again. I rise into the air; Kakarott is expecting another ki attack but instead I fly in and punch him in the stomach. He grins and aims a blow at my chin. Now this is real Saiyan fighting: pure hand to hand, at full power, close enough together to feel each other’s body heat. Something tells me we’re not going to wait until we get home today.

Below us a faint ki is approaching but I have no mind for anything but Kakarott. I identify it as friendly and ignore it. He lands a blow on my side, his aura flares and I can see he’s as excited as I am. I lay into him with my best effort; he matches me strike for strike. As the sun climbs higher in the sky he throws me to the ground three more times, and I return the favor twice. The final time he throws me, he follows me down and pins me to the earth. Looks like the fight is over.

He leans over me and runs a teasing finger along the bottom edge of my armor. I growl and clench my fists. I need all of my willpower to keep my hands by my sides, but he has not given me permission to touch him. His hand slides around the side to find the fastenings – 

“Oh my god!”

We both look up at the interruption. Kakarott releases me and stands up. “Good morning, Chichi.”

“Good morning? Good _morning_!?” Kakarott’s woman – former woman, I suppose – marches up to him and plants her hands on her hips. “Is that all you have to say to me? I knew you weren’t really attracted to me, Son Goku, but to find you feeling up this – this – ” she points wildly at me, at a loss for words. “What if your sons find out about this?”

“Gohan and Goten have known for months, Chichi.”

“What? Why didn’t they tell me? Never mind, how did you seduce him into this, you snake?”

As if I could force Kakarott into anything against his will. I get up and stand next to him, arms crossed. “Woman, it should be obvious who is in charge here.” I lift my chin to display my white leather collar.

“You can’t be serious!”

“We’re completely serious, Chichi. And we’re not asking for your approval.” She gapes at him; since she’s been out of touch, she hasn’t gotten used to Kakarott without his Goku persona.

“You – ! You were never really afraid of me, were you?”

“No.”

She flounders a bit at this calm admission, and I smirk. Then: “Fine! But if you hurt either of the boys with this, you’ll be hearing from me!” And she storms away, slamming her car door before she drives off.

“Is she always like that, Kakarott?”

“Yes, it’s her way. She throws people off balance with her temper and uses that to get what she wants. She doesn’t know how to deal with the real me, so I never asked her to.”

“Your patience is astonishing.”

“You know how far I’ll go for my friends.”

“Hn.” It’s one of the magnificent things about him. Life, power, identity, personality – he can sacrifice them all and still not lose his warrior pride. There was a time when I would have called that weak. “Well, that kind of spoiled the mood.”

“In that case we might as well take a shower first.”

He teleports us straight into the bathroom, and we shed our training gear without further discussion. Kakarott turns the water on. Soon we’re both soaking wet and the sweat and grime of the sparring ground is sluicing off us. I take a sponge and scrub his body, making sure I hit all the sensitive spots: first the back and sides, then his chest, then he bends down so I can reach his hair. I take my time there, massage his scalp, scratch his ears, revel in the feeling of the stiff bristles against my hands. He purrs over the sound of the water, and so do I.

Then Kakarott does the same for me. He teases me in all the ways I didn’t dare do to him. He scrapes his nails along my ribs. Presses thumbs along the edges of my shoulder blades. Runs the fingers of both hands up my abdomen, and my eyes glaze over. He traces the rapidly healing bruises from our fight; when he leans down to lick one I cry out and claw the tiled wall in frustration.

Kakarott laughs, the dark chuckle that makes my stomach flutter and my hair stand on end. 

“What do you want to do, Vegeta? Tell me.” He continues to nibble on my shoulder, just under my collar; his hands stroke my hips.

“I … let me touch you …lick you… ah! I want to taste you … Kakarott, please … fuck me into the floor …” His hand brushes my tail scar and I scream.

“Are you back in the mood?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, motioning for me to follow.

***

#### Part 3

I follow Kakarott into the living room, wondering what he has in store for me. Here I am, skin still damp from the shower, he’s licked and stroked me within an inch of my life and then left me hanging. What is he up to? I watch as he stands in the middle of the room and his ki begins to rise.

He ascends all the way to Super Saiyan 3. Without thought or order I sink to my knees. Kakarott at Super Saiyan is awesome enough, but at Super Saiyan 3 he is irresistible – such power! I know that if I keep training, one day I will be able to match this transformation, but Kakarott will always be above me. A god. _My_ god. I can do nothing but gaze at him in adoration.

“Well?” he says. “You wanted to lick. So do it.”

I need no second invitation. I crawl forward and start at his toes, curling my tongue around each one in turn. I trace along his arches and suck on his insteps. Laying a hand on his knee for balance, I swirl my tongue in the hollow of his heel. I am drunk on the flavor of Kakarott’s skin, his texture on my lips, his musky scent. I raise my head to the backs of his knees and devour them. I am ignorant of my surroundings; there is no past and no future for me, only Kakarott, and his pleasure, and the pleasure he brings me. My hands clutch him as if I’m about to fall off as I climb up his thigh. When my lips close over his tail scar it sends a tremor through my body and makes my own scar burn in sympathy. He groans and his head falls back, brushing his golden mane over my skin. I almost end it right there – almost fall to the floor and beg him to take me. But the time for that is not yet; I never leave a job half-finished.

My body trembles and my hands on his hips are the only thing holding me steady. Nibbling a path around to his front, I thrust my tongue into his navel, which makes him arch and grunt. I follow the lines of his abdomen upward, savoring every millimeter; I lick the crease along his breastbone, then cross to his nipples and spend a glorious eternity suckling and biting at them. I purr into his flesh. I sense more than see his arousal; he is as close to the edge as I am but he waits – waits to see how far I can go. Kakarott always could outlast me.

Slowing my pace, I wander up to his collarbones. I swipe them each with my tongue and then rise up to his neck. I kiss the hollow at its base and feel his purr through my lips; I graze his throat with my teeth and … I … my teeth …his _throat_ … I …My movements slow to a halt. Sweet kami. My mouth is locked onto Kakarott’s throat and with every heartbeat his life’s blood presses against my teeth. And he stands motionless, neither tense nor resisting. _Kakarott_ … I can only lay against him and suck in deep, sobbing breaths. _Kakarott trusts me_.

I am proud. I am humbled. I am lost in a storm of sensation and Kakarott is my anchor. Now he grasps my shoulders and lowers me to the floor; he spreads my thighs apart and kneels between them, his teal eyes staring into mine. All I want is for him to take me, to prove his claim on me, but he waits. Why does he torture me like this?

Slowly he presses into me. Somewhere in all this he’s gotten himself slick – I still don’t know how he does that. At Super Saiyan 3 he’s thicker than I’m used to, and I gasp a bit as he stretches me open. He starts to stroke into me much. Too. _Slowly_. I squirm, trying to make him increase his pace.

He pins me to the ground. I howl; this single action drives my arousal higher yet. I am conquered, helpless to fight against him, and it seems like it’s the only thing I’ve ever desired. He takes me according to _his_ will, unhurried, patient. Even at this slow pace it doesn’t take long until he roars his climax. The feeling of his seed flowing into me sends me over the edge with him. He collapses on top of me and his transformation fades away.

We lie together on the floor for long minutes, catching our breaths. “Kami, Kakarott, how do you do that to me?”

“Me? All I did was stand there.”

“Bullshit.” The truth is, all Kakarott has to do to get this reaction from me is be himself. An uncomfortable sensation intrudes on me and I twitch.

“What is it?”

“My tail scar itches.”

He reaches underneath me to scratch it and it feels …different. He draws back to look at me. “Your tail’s growing back.”

“It’s about time.” I run my hand over the same place on his back; there is a distinct swelling there. “So is yours.” I wonder if it will turn gold when he ascends …a smirk emerges as I consider the possibilities.

***

#### Part 4

The Lookout was one of the few places where a Z fighter could find peace and quiet; it was also the only place where Gohan felt it was safe to un-capsule Vegeta’s books, so he was often to be found there of an afternoon. This time he’d started with a Saiyan text on botany, then spent a while talking with Dende in preparation for his trip to New Namek. Now he was poring over a volume of Namekian myths and legends that Dende had lent him.

“Hey, Gohan.”

He looked up to see Mirai Trunks at the door. “Hi, Mirai. What brings you here?”

“Eh, just making the rounds.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “I hear Chichi finally found out about our fathers.”

“Yeah – she threw such a tantrum that night, you would not believe. And their tails grew back, too.”

“Both at once? Maybe Bulma slipped something in their food.”

Gohan laughed. “We’ll have to start watching what we eat …By the way, Mirai, I’ve been curious.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Heh. Anyway, in this timeline Vegeta reached Super Saiyan through training after you warned us about the androids. So I was wondering how he did it in yours.”

“Hm. Well. You remember the first time you met me, in the second fight with Frieza. Obviously in my timeline that didn’t happen; instead Vegeta ascended. Then Kakarott returned soon after that, and Vegeta was all like, _I’m a Super Saiyan too_. And then Kakarott smacked him down in front of everybody. I think you can imagine where things went from there.”

“I’d rather not.” Gohan made a face, and Mirai smirked.

“So they had three years together before the androids came. Vegeta died in the fighting; Kakarott collapsed from heart disease, as you know, but he didn’t die immediately. The medicine was discovered too late to reverse the damage, but it kept him going until I was ten years old.”

“In that case, why did you say that I – ”

“Because he lost his ability to fight. His ki was still strong but his body had trouble with a flight of stairs. Through it all he never lost his spirit.”

Gohan swallowed. To be unable to fight was a terrible thought, even for him. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel for his father, who loved fighting above all else. He was starting to understand why Mirai had almost literally moved heaven and earth to give their fathers another chance; it was also no surprise that he preferred to spend his time here rather than in his native timeline, which was a bleak and lonely reality by comparison. Gohan was trying to think of something to say when Piccolo walked in.

 

“Gohan, Mirai, would you come look at the sensors for a moment?”

 

Mystified, the two of them stood up and followed the Namek to the observation room. The main screen showed a schematic of (relatively) near space; at the edge of the display five small specks crept towards the planet.

“Spaceships,” Gohan exclaimed.

 

“Good-sized ones too,” Piccolo added. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.”

“Did this happen in your timeline, Mirai?”

“No. This must be a response to something that’s changed here.” He stared at the screen, inscrutable.

Piccolo shrugged. “In any case, at that speed they’re still three days away. We have some time to get ready for them. And we’d better alert Kakarott and Vegeta immediately.”

“At this time of day?” Gohan protested. “Do you want to take the chance of interrupting them?”

Mirai snorted. “That would be a problem any time of day. And we can’t just wait until one of them contacts us.”

“So do you want to do it?”

“Uh…”

Gohan lost the toss. He picked up his phone and dialed the priority number to his father’s mobile. It rang for a moment and then someone picked up.

“This had better be important,” Kakarott’s voice growled. He didn’t sound pleased. And that noise … that couldn’t be Vegeta _mewling_ in the background, could it?

“Uh, yeah, but it’s not urgent. Call me back,” he said, and hastily hung up.

Piccolo studied his pale face. “What’s the matter?”

“You don’t want to know. You really, really don’t want to know.”

Piccolo let it lie. “We have a lot to do to prepare. Mirai, will you go round up the Z fighters. Gohan, check over the training equipment. I’ll see to our stock of senzu beans …” They scattered to their various tasks. Gohan hoped they would be ready in time. This couldn’t possibly be worse than Buu, right? He also hoped, with less confidence, that their leaders would keep their hands to themselves for the duration.

***

#### Part 5

It starts as a quiet afternoon at home. A thunderstorm rages outside the picture windows and Kakarott has built a fire in the fireplace, creating a cozy atmosphere. He’s stretched out in his armchair with a book; I’m curled catlike on the couch across from him with another. Mine is a science fiction novel full of ship-to-ship space battles and maneuvers, entertaining stuff. As I read I idly bring my tail around and play with the fur. I missed my tail; when I’m relaxed and in private like this, I like to feel it sliding through my hands.

I scratch under the fur near the tip and I start to purr; my tail loops around my forearm, stroking it with velvet. A movement makes me glance up. Kakarott has put his book down in his lap and is staring at me, a smoldering look that tells me exactly what’s going through his mind. Heh. Do I really look that good? I’m not even trying to provoke him. Or at least, I _wasn’t_.

I make eye contact for a bare moment and look down again. I take my tail tip in both hands and stroke it gently. No sir, nothing lewd about this, not at all. I run my hands down to give my tail more range of movement, and loop the end up to my face. I lean my head into it as it caresses my cheeks and neck. The rest of its length is coiled tight around my side and abdomen, slowly snaking against my clothes; a chaste touch, nothing overtly sexual.

And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell you. Kakarott certainly doesn’t. While one hand holds my tail tip to my face, the other grasps it where it comes over my side and strokes it all the way to the end. I open my mouth to nibble at the tip, then suck on it. This time I do moan. Just performing for him makes me hot; I shift my hips to relieve the pressure a bit.

Kakarott catches the motion and he’s suddenly standing over me. I pause, let go of my tail, look up at him; he looks ready to pound me until I can’t walk. I purr louder. He plucks me off the couch and blasts our clothes off with his ki. Then he sits down where I was lying and throws me across his lap. My reaction to this is immediate: my tail curls high over my back, exposing me.

Kakarott chuckles. “You like that, do you?”

“Oh yes.”

“Do you know what happens to people who tease me?”

“I’ve got a good guess.”

“Guess again.” What? He pulls my hands together in front of me. “Wrap your tail around your wrists.” I comply, and then he uses a thread of ki to bind my tail to itself. He’s just shackled me with my own tail! I gasp and thrust my hips up.

“Ah, ah. None of that.” He puts his hand on my neck to hold me still. This time I see what he does; a wave of ki and the bottle of lube that was on the end table is in his hand. Using his tail to hold it, he opens the cap and squeezes a generous portion onto his fingers. His hand hovers behind me and I spread my legs wider in anticipation.

A single finger touches my entrance. I instantly thrust back on it but he pulls away, he doesn’t enter me. The hand on my neck tightens, immobilizing me. His finger traces lazy circles around my ring until I am moaning and whimpering, begging him wordlessly to get on with it. Finally the finger slips inside me and I make a noise I can only describe as a squeak. If I didn’t have my mind on other things, that would be embarrassing. Kakarott seems to like it, though; he purrs. He circles his finger inside me, stretching and stroking my inner walls. I want him to touch that spot inside me, but no; I will receive that pleasure when Kakarott wills it, not before.

He adds a second finger and I no longer worry about what I sound like. As he thrusts them slowly in and out I mewl shamelessly, wishing I could move. And that’s when the phone rings.

I can sense Kakarott getting ready to blast the thing, but it’s the priority ring, so instead he takes the hand from my neck and teleports the phone into it. His other hand continues to move inside me as he flips it open. “This had better be important,” he growls into it. He listens for a moment and then throws it out the window, so I guess not.

For some reason I’m even more aroused by his fingering me while he’s on the phone. I feel like a possession, a toy that only exists for Kakarott’s pleasure. And I feel oddly touched that he wouldn’t stop what he’s doing to me just to take a call. He leans down to lick the back of my neck, which makes me shudder. Then he adds a third finger.

I stop feeling impatient for more; I just wallow in the sensations that his fingers are giving me. They swirl, stroke, spread my inner ring wide. He adds a fourth finger. Four? He’s never used that many on me before, but I feel too good to be curious. I completely lose track of time; I have no idea how long I lie there as he stretches and teases me. Then his fingers withdraw.

Surely now he will lift me up, turn me so he can sink his shaft into me. I hear him squeeze out more lube, then I feel something at my entrance and – and – 

\-- he pushes his _whole fist_ into me. I can’t help myself; I buck against him, my tail convulses around my wrists and my limbs thrash. “Kakarott!!”

He purrs again and deliberately pumps his fist inside me. I moan, a long, drawn-out moan. Then he stops. No! Not now! I need … _“More!”_

“All right.” He shifts sideways so that my head is in his lap, and presses the tip of his shaft to my lips. _Yes!_ I swallow him whole, feeling him against my tongue and in my throat. He starts to move his arm inside me again, hitting my sweet spot with each long stroke. Kakarott fills me completely from both ends, and I am so lost in pleasure that my climax takes me by surprise. And no sooner has it faded than I’m hard again; a minute later I feel Kakarott’s climax in my throat, and that sends me into my second orgasm in a row.

After that I literally don’t have enough strength to move a muscle. Kakarott releases my tail and it just lies limp beside me; I barely manage to lick the last drops of seed from his shaft as he pulls out of me. He carefully slides his arm out of me, leaving me feeling hollow and empty. He twists around so that he’s lying beside me on the couch, grabs a blanket from the armrest and drapes it over us. And that is the last thing I remember until morning.

***

#### Part 6

The day of the spaceships’ landing finally arrives. Ever since we heard the news from Gohan (the morning _after_ that very brief phone call) we’ve been running around like headless chickens, trying to prepare. Three days isn’t long enough to try for Super Saiyan 3, but Kakarott does manage to teach me Instant Transmission.

I half expect the five ships to scatter across the planet to wreak havoc, but they stay in a bunch and land in an undeveloped river valley. We teleport to a point out of sight from them and immediately suppress our kis to zero; no sense in giving away our advantages. We wait for the other Z fighters to arrive.

“Who knows, they might be peaceful,” Kakarott muses.

“What are the odds of that, Kakarott?”

“I can always hope. Still, unless they’re hiding something, they don’t look like much trouble.”

“Hn.” We can sense many ki sources in the valley, a few hundred of them, but none of them are near the strength of a Z fighter. As he says, an easy fight. The rest of our team lands beside us; they’re in full battle dress and Mirai has his sword belted on. Kakarott is wearing his usual orange gi, and I’m in my body suit and armor – and my collar, of course. I smirk to myself. Have no fear, the Z fighters are here. A final equipment check – “Let’s go,” says Kakarott.

We fly over the crest of the hill – 

We get our first sight of the ships – 

And I’m suddenly very, very interested. “Kakarott,” I hiss, “those are _Saiyan_ ships.”

“Seriously?” We land on an outcrop halfway down the hillside. There are figures moving around outside the ships and even from here we can see the spiky black hair, the tails. _Saiyans_! My own tail lashes with elation. My people are not destroyed! These ships must have been hiding all this time in deep space, emerging when the news of Frieza’s death reached them and heading for the place of his defeat. They’re colony ships, fully outfitted to restore our race. I look over at Kakarott and he’s grinning from ear to ear. _Saiyans_! Of course we still might have to fight them to get them to leave the humans alone. In some sense the people of this world are our people too.

We’ve been spotted. There’s some commotion down below and then a group of the newcomers flies toward us. My joy fades a bit as I recognize their leader as the one member of my race I’ve been glad was dead.

“Vegeta, that one in front look familiar,” Kakarott says.

“He should. He’s my father.” 

King Vegeta lands in front of us, flanked by a dozen soldiers in standard Saiyan armor, two of them wearing scouters. That sight brings back memories. I haven’t seen those uniforms in over a decade, and I can barely recall when I needed a scouter to read ki. And these Saiyans look so weak … my father is half again as strong as the others, but even Krillin could beat him now.

He gives me a haughty smile. “Vegeta, when I heard Frieza was defeated, I knew it would be you. I suppose this other one was sent here for purging? Join me, and we’ll turn this planet into the new home of our race.”

I snort. “Dream on, old man. I have nothing to say to you. First you hand me over to Frieza to save your own skin, and now this. You could at least have had the good grace to go down with your planet.”

“Hey, gramps,” Mirai chimes in, “Nice cape.”

His veins stand out on his forehead and his ki soars … to a tenth of Super Saiyan. Changing tactics, he turns to Kakarott. “Saiyan warrior, I am your king! Aid me in creating our new Saiyan world!”

“You’re no king of mine,” Kakarott replies calmly. “And I’ll prove that on your body if necessary.”

_“You do realize,”_ I say in the Human tongue, _“that if you beat him you’ll take over his crown.”_

_“If that’s what it takes for him to leave us alone.”_

I smirk. That’s just what I thought he’d say.

Mirai says, _“No offense, dad, but I’m embarrassed that I’m related to that guy.”_

_“Not nearly as embarrassed as I am, boy.”_

My father turns to me again. “Vegeta! As a prince of the House of Vegetasei, you can’t let this insult pass!”

He thinks he’s making me choose between my title and my comrades. Little does he know that I made that choice the day that Kakarott pinned me to a rock and I didn’t fight back. “Fine. I abdicate.”

“What!?” His ki flares wildly, but still doesn’t go anywhere near Super Saiyan. His escorts are practically gaping; here is their king more or less throwing a tantrum, and the two of us are not only not afraid of him, we’re not even particularly impressed. I, a prince of the Royal House, have just disowned my family in favor of an apparently random gaggle of fighters – without tails they can’t tell the boys are half Saiyan. An apparently normal purging soldier has just defied the king without batting an eye. It’s not clear which one of us is in charge. And the scouters are reading zero.

Kakarott flicks his tail. “I don’t think this is accomplishing anything. But I will say this: my name is Kakarott, and if you harm any innocent people here you’ll answer to me.” I nod in agreement, and with that our group lifts off and flies back over the hill. The other Saiyans are too stunned to follow.

***

#### Part 7

I sit with one arm on the back of the couch, tail looped around my ankles, staring out the picture windows. Thoughtful. My people are returned from the dead. Their chains to Frieza gone, they can reclaim their honor as warriors, defenders of the hearth as we are meant to be. The complement of those ships is over half female, so someone was thinking ahead; my bloodline will go on. Trunks, as a hybrid, is more than likely sterile, but once our power becomes known both Kakarott and I will receive breeding offers – though the thought of sleeping with anyone but him does not appeal to me.

I sense him enter the room an sit down beside me. “Regretting your decision?”

“No.” I have had twelve long years to accept that my House is ended. Finishing it voluntarily brings little pain; certainly miniscule compared with the rewards. “Just considering the future. I don’t make decisions I don’t intend to keep.”

“Oh? What was the Majin thing, then?”

“A fiasco.” I turn around to face him. “I was looking for something I thought I was missing. Of course I didn’t know what it was until it got shoved up my ass.” He grins a little at that and I smirk back at him. Looking back, his actions during that episode were astonishing. Just hours after I seriously tried to kill him, he saved my life – twice! – and also agreed to fuse with me. Truly, the strength of his faith in me seems bottomless.

He gazes at me. To an outsider I know my face would appear blank, but Kakarott can read me like no one else. “Vegeta.” He lifts his chin and taps a finger on his throat. “Taste.”

I swallow from a suddenly dry mouth. _Kakarott_ … Obedient, I lean forward and close my lips on his neck. Caress his vein with my tongue and feel his life pulsing there … this act has the same effect on me as it did before; within minutes I am totally submissive. He could tear off my head and I would allow it; he could rip out my heart and I would thank him for the honor. He is my god and his will is absolute. He purrs under me as I worship his flesh, and wraps an arm around me. I could explode from pride at being so close to him.

We’re interrupted by a nearby ki signature accompanied by pounding on the door. Why do people always disturb us at times like this? I don’t stop what I’m doing. It’s not my job to spare the sensibilities of ignorant boors who walk in on us. And who on earth would be so rude as – 

\-- Oh, of course. It _would_ be my father. He bashes through the door and barges right in, then sees me sitting in Kakarott’s lap with our tails twined together and promptly loses his temper. “Vegeta! How degenerate has this planet made you, to cavort with a third-class peasant like some shameless two-bit harlot?”

I glance at him. “I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, least of all you.” And I go back to savoring Kakarott’s skin.

He nearly has heart failure on the spot. “How dare you! I came here willing to forgive your intemperate remarks and invite you again to join me in creating a new Saiyan homeworld!”

After an entrance like that? Not likely. He continues, “And you, Kakarott – I found you in the records, a weakling fit only for purging missions. I suggest you give up your delusions of grandeur and acknowledge me as your king, or face the consequences.”

Kakarott’s purr turns into a growl. “I told you before, you’re not my king and I’ll prove it. Be at the sparring ground tomorrow at noon.”

***

Noon. A huge crowd is gathered at the sparring ground; all five hundred-plus Saiyan immigrants are here, all the Z fighters, their friends, World Tournament competitors and other fighting enthusiasts. The spectators are much too close, so I tell the boys to spread out along the perimeter to catch any stray blasts. Kakarott sits casually on a boulder at the bottom of the bowl-shaped ground, waiting.

My father appears at noon precisely, wearing full armor complete with cape. He touches down in the center of the sparring ground with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. “Kakarott! Are you still prepared to contest my authority?”

Kakarott calmly stands up on his boulder. “Yes.” He lifts off and takes his midair starting stance. My father rises to meet him.

What follows is not so much a fight as a beatdown. They trade a few light blows and then, when Kakarott feels warmed up, he casually swats the old man to the ground. He gets up and his ki flares high – relatively speaking, that is. He soars up and Kakarott sends him right back down. He stands up again, flies in to attack, and gets thrown into the dust again. This happens about ten more times and then my father loses any patience he had and fires a ki blast. Kakarott doesn’t even bother to dodge it – he just takes the blow and then replies with a Kame hame ha. This time my father doesn’t get back up.

Kakarott lands and plants a foot on his chest. The old man protests, “This can’t be happening!”

“I warned you what would happen if you bothered me or mine.”

“Please don’t kill me!”

Across the field I see Mirai roll his eyes. I sneer. Doesn’t the old man have _any_ dignity? Kakarott just smiles down at him. “Sorry, Vegeta-jii. You never really had a chance.” And he ascends.

My fellow Saiyans are frozen with shock, and no wonder. They have just started to understand that this unknown warrior has won the crown with contemptuous ease, and now he reveals that he’s also the Legendary. One by one they drop to their knees in fealty. And well they should; there’s only one Saiyan in the universe that’s worth Kakarott’s time.

The old man doesn’t know when to shut up. “So that’s it,” he growls. “It’s you who defeated Frieza and my degenerate son merely hides behind your power.”

“Hide? Vegeta? It’ll be a cold day in Hell when Vegeta needs anyone to protect him.” Kakarott stares down at him. “He must take after his mother.” I think that may be the nicest thing he’s ever said about me … He extends a hand towards me, a silent command, and I glide down into the bowl to join my _king_. “Besides, who ever said there was only one Legendary?”

Taking this as my cue, I give my father my best smirk and ascend as well. Then Kakarott and I turn toward each other and he pulls me into a deep kiss. Our kis spiral higher in unison (I ignore Gohan gagging on the sidelines); through level two, until I reach my maximum. Kakarott continues into level three, the peak of his power, and his lips seem to burn on mine. _Yes!_ Kakarott is our king and I am his chosen consort, our power displayed for all to see. My tongue attacks his mouth with the same killer passion I use in battle. And I feel it: a resistance, a pressure against my ki. A sensation I’ve felt twice before: I’m at the wall for Super Saiyan 3. Kakarott’s eyes sparkle as he grins into our kiss.

***

#### Part 8

Things settle down in the next few days. The Saiyan colonists spread out in their valley, building houses and gardens; they’re planning to earn income with exotic vegetables, strange as it soundsKakarott’s style of rule so far is fairly hands-off; it amounts to “behave or else,” and for Saiyans that works quite well. My father is still sulking. And I search high and low for the things I need to give Kakarott a gift, and wait for the proper time.

A clear afternoon, the sun streams through the windows. Kakarott comes home to find me wearing my “take me now” outfit, blue leather pants and silk shirt, which instantly tells him I’m up to something. He grins. “You have something for me, Vegeta?”

“Let me go get it.” I’m more serious than usual, which perplexes him, but what I’m planning is beyond what we’ve done before. When I return to the living room he’s sitting in his armchair, waiting. Perfect. I have them tucked in my shirt, out of his sight; I walk over and kneel at his feet. “I want to give you your coronation present, Kakarott.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Me.” I pull them out and hold them up to him in both hands: a set of ki suppressors.  
He stares at them, shocked. We’ve used chains and shackles many times, but they’ve always been ordinary metal, things I could easily escape from. And thus, in some ways, merely symbolic; these ki suppressors will make the restraint real. Just sitting here offering them to him has me aroused.

He picks up one of them as if it’s a precious jewel. “Do you want a safe word?”

“No.”

He takes a deep breath, then closes the cuffs around my wrists. My ki fades away and I am at his mercy. I purr, waiting for him to decide what to do with me.

He sits back thoughtfully for a moment, then teleports a large box onto his lap – our toybox. He rummages through it and comes up with some lengths of chain. “Undress,” he commands. I obey, curious, and a little disappointed; I hoped I’d have a chance to “dance” for him. In short order I’m chained spread-eagled between two of the posts on the side of the room. I test the chains on my arms; solid, there’s no way I can get out of them. Good. Then Kakarott picks up his armchair, sets it facing me, and sits down in it.

“Touch yourself.” I presume he means with my tail. I give him a wicked smile; looks like I get to perform after all. I hook my tail tip around my ankle and run it up my leg. It curls across my abdomen, teasing my nipples, then swings up to caress my throat. I bring it to my lips and suck on the tip while the rest of its length strokes my ribs. It trails along my arms, then down along my back and buttocks. I loop it around itself and stroke to the end. Kakarott purrs.

I straighten my tail with a flick and lazily bring it up between my legs to my chest again. I groan this time as it presses on my nipples, slowly circles them, and then zigzags lower. When it reaches the base of my shaft I have to stop and take a deep breath. Then I stroke – slowly, because my self-control is already near its limit – base to tip to base, circling my sac, brushing against my skin as if I’m painting it. My tail wraps all the way around my shaft and my hips move of their own accord, thrusting into the furry embrace. Once, twice – I open my eyes to look at Kakarott and that nearly finishes me on the spot: he’s taken his cock out of his pants and he’s stroking it idly with his thumb as he watches me.

“Kakarott …” I stop moving. I must not climax without him; I want his hands on me. He watches my chest heaving for another endless minute. “Kakarott, please …” He stands. Steps towards me, still fully clothed but for his shaft standing proudly in front of him. He wraps one hand around my throat.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Vegeta?” I close my eyes; his voice alone is enough to affect me now. And he runs one finger of his other hand along my length. I explode.

When I’m coherent again, Kakarott holds his seed-covered hand to my lips. Without prompting I start to lick my own fluid from his skin. The combined flavor soon has me hard again and I mewl around his fingers. “More?”

“Yes!” 

He floats into the air to bring his shaft level with my face. I lean towards it eagerly but he grabs me by the hair. He pushes his shaft into my mouth, all the way, and I don’t get a chance to do anything as he starts seriously thrusting into me. He takes my mouth, with his tail wrapped around my chest and his hands buried in my hair, and my world narrows to the flesh sliding into my throat. All too soon he roars and pours his seed into me. I shudder around him but so soon after my last climax it’s not enough for me to come.

He pulls out as I suck the last traces of fluid from his shaft. Then he lands and crushes his mouth on mine to taste our combined juices. “Still ready for more, I see.” I can only nod; he grins. “Time for the main course.”

He walks back to his chair and strips, finally letting me see his stunning figure. It’s a good thing he usually wears such loose clothes, or I wouldn’t be able to think straight most of the time! He goes through our toybox again and sets some things out – where I can’t see them – and then returns to me. “How much can you take, Vegeta?”

“That sounds like a challenge. Bring it on, Kakarott.”

He chuckles darkly. Now I’m in for it. I can hardly wait. He runs his hands over my chest, rubbing and pinching my nipples until they’re hard and I’m moaning. Something cold and sharp snaps down on them, and I gasp; two toothed metal clips. Kakarott whispers in my ear, “You’re beautiful when you’re in pain.”

“Then hurt me, Kakarott. Until you’re satisfied.” Did I really just say that? He licks my ear. I hear jingling as he teleports more of those clips into his hands. He attaches two to my earlobes, then a small line down the back of my neck. One on my navel. Four more on my sac, and he clips the last three along the top of my shaft. As each one bites my flesh, I gasp and arch. Then he ports something else into his hand. 

His fingers flick and a spot of fire erupts on my skin. I screech; my tail lashes wildly, my limbs reflexively move to defend myself – and the chains arrest my motion. My scream turns into a howl of pure passion. I’m immobile, powerless to escape, and Kakarott has _both hands free_ to work his will on me. Another drop of fire lands on my skin. Wax! He’s melting wax with his ki and flicking it at me. I writhe in my chains as he scatters the burning drops across my chest … abdomen …thighs. The clips digging into my most sensitive areas add their own sharp counterpoint with each heartbeat.

Then he steps behind me and it’s worse – or better – since I can’t see where he’s aiming. He captures my tail in one hand to keep it out of the way; I can feel the block of wax against my fur. The first drop lands on my neck just below the clips. He continues down to my shoulders, one drop at a time, _two … three … four …five._ Then my back – _…nine … ten_ – and buttocks – _…fourteen … fifteen ..._

Sometime in all of this he slips a finger inside me and as each drop lands he brushes my sweet spot. The mixture of pain and pleasure leaves me nearly incoherent. I shout out words and pieces of words without knowing what they are; his name, or profanities, or something else entirely. My eyes are open but I can’t see. If he says anything, I don’t hear him. My reality is the fire, remembering the last moment and waiting for the next. He trails the wax down my thighs _… twenty … twenty-one…_ , ending with two drops to the backs of my knees. The finger withdraws – 

– and a single drop of burning wax lands on the skin of my sac. I throw back my head and wail like a dying man, muscles straining against the chains that hold me captive. Before the sound fades away Kakarott buries his shaft in me, growling. My howl doesn’t stop but immediately changes tone. Kami! His cock is as hot as the wax inside me. He thrusts hard, slamming me into the chains with every stroke. I’m so close … he bites me on the shoulder. A column of fire spears through my body from one point of penetration to the other, and my scream cuts off as I convulse through a massive climax. Behind me Kakarott roars his own; they can probably hear him at the Saiyan settlement. I slump against the chains and enjoy the feeling of his seed flowing into me.

After a moment he pulls out. He takes off the clips and chains, then throws me over his shoulder and carries me to the bedroom. He lays me on the bed and removes the ki suppressors; I gasp as my power surges back. He sets the cuffs neatly on the bedside table and lies down, drawing me close. He licks me behind the ear. “Thank you for the present, Vegeta. It’s a real treasure.”

I nuzzle his chest. “You’re more than welcome, ‘Your Majesty.’”


	3. Omake 1: Bottoms Up

Being the King can be a tough job sometimes. Our people aren’t much trouble on their own – sometimes they’ll get into a brawl and have to be sorted out, but that’s about it. As King, though, Kakarott gets to deal with the human authorities on our behalf, and the people currently in charge of Earth are, in a word, morons. On days when he meets with them he comes home exhausted, growling and coiled tight as piano wire. And late as well; I’ve spent the whole day training the Saiyan soldiers, getting them up to Z fighter standards, and I’m still home before him.

When he finally does get home, he goes straight to his armchair and falls down in it. I don’t say a word, just throw a tarp over the coffee table and drop a huge chunk of barbecued meat in front of him. (The only thing I know how to cook.) He gives me a look of gratitude and digs in. I sit across from him with my own, smaller portion and watch him eat. Kakarott is the only person I know who can put away a whole brontosaurus drumstick in one sitting; by the time he’s picked the bone clean, he looks much better. “Thanks for cooking, Vegeta. I would have done it …”

“You think I’d let you cook in that state? You’d burn the salad.”

“Heh. Probably.”

“So what was it this time?”

“They want all Saiyans to wear tracking devices; apparently ki tracing isn’t enough. I told them no way in hell.”

“No wonder you’re so wound up.” The human leaders are terrified of Saiyans, but this is the first time they’ve mentioned physical restrictions. It’s cowardly. It’s insulting. And worst of all, it’s making Kakarott tense; I certainly can’t leave him like that. “Want a massage?”

“You know how to massage?”

“I do now.” That makes him chuckle; he stands up and starts shedding his clothes. I toss the remains of our dinner into the kitchen. When I return he’s lying naked on the couch, hands tucked under his chin. I feel blood rushing to my groin at the sight of him. He gives me a fierce look. “Loose the clothes, Vegeta.”

I obediently strip, then clasp my hands overhead and stretch. Showing off. I step over to him and straddle his hips, ready to begin. I have to remind myself to work slowly, it’s so rarely he allows me a chance to explore him this way. I start at his neck and shoulders. I knead the knots out gently, rub the skin to warm it; he purrs. There’s a spot just at the base of the neck that I know feels good when it’s pressed, and the tops of the shoulders are sensitive, too. For good measure I thoroughly rub him behind the ears.

Once those parts are relaxed and pliant, I move on to his back. Here I make sure to trace out all his sensitive spots; around each vertebra, along the ribs, lines of old scars invisible under his skin. (I know where they are because I gave him most of them.) Each one gets a groan and shudder from him as well as a release of tension, and his tail twitches – considering it’s nestled against my balls and cleft, that’s a reaction I try hard to provoke. I spend more time on his back than I strictly have to, but neither of us really cares.

I shuffle down so I’m sitting over his knees, to get a better angle on his lower back. He’s quite relaxed by now; I knead him thoroughly all over. His lumbar muscles are as firm as the rest of him, his flanks as smooth as a fine marble sculpture, and he has two dimples on either side of his tail. I savor the silken touch of his skin as I continue down over his buttocks and thighs. I vaguely regret I couldn’t make this last longer, even as I wonder what’s next. I can tell he’s as aroused as I am. Will he roll over and demand I suck him off? Make me ride him? Throw me to the ground and take me?

Suddenly he whips his tail out from under my legs, making me gasp as it brushes my sac. “Vegeta,” he says in that voice of dark promise, “You missed a spot.”

“Huh?”

His tail flexes at the base. Curls high over his back, a gesture I’m very familiar with. And he spreads his thighs apart under me. My breath catches in my throat. He will allow me to …? I stare at him. He lies spread out before me, offering himself, usually a submissive position, but all I can think is how _regal_ he looks like that. I bow over him until my face rests on his buttocks. I need a moment to gather my wits, and then I part his cheeks with shaking hands and lean in to taste his entrance.

It is perfect. His own unique flavor, concentrated and heady. The tight spiral of ridges resonating with his purrs. I pour my whole being into pleasuring that ring. That divine treasure. That gift from Kakarott. How does he do it? How, every time he offers me an opening, do I end up bound tighter in his service? _Kakarott trusts me_. He opens under my adoring tongue, letting me slip inside him. My body throbs with pleasure at the act. His tail taps me on the forehead. “Put it in, Vegeta.” Those four words nearly send me over the edge all by themselves. I moan into him and sit up. A bottle of lube has materialized beside us; I liberally apply it to my shaft and ease into him.

He purrs and I feel it vibrate all around me; I have to stop and take a few deep breaths. “Do me,” he commands. Even now when I am on top of him and inside him, I am utterly his slave. Obeying, I draw back and thrust back in. Then again; I start to build a steady rhythm. His purr changes pitch, turns deeper and louder. I am making the strangest sound I have ever heard, something between a whimper and a groan, with every stroke. His tail loops around my torso and caresses me up and down; when it brushes my nipples, I howl.

He grinds back into my hips. “Harder.” I comply, laying my hands on his flanks for balance. I plunge into him as hard as I know how; his purr changes again, hitching a little every time I thrust. I bite my lip. The combined sound and sensation is almost too much, but I muster all of my willpower to restrain myself. I _will_ bring him off first. I shift my angle inside him so that I hit his sweet spot on every stroke. He shudders, his tail tenses around me and his purr turns into the roar I know so well. His inner muscles clench around me in waves, and that sends me over the edge with him. I pour my climax into him knowing I have served his pleasure well.

I fall down on his back, drained. He pulls me down beside him and into his arms. I cling to his biceps and my head rolls back, exposing my throat; he licks me, and then bites my shoulder. Marking me. “You give a good massage, Vegeta.”

I manage a faint smile. “I’m always happy to serve, Kakarott.”


	4. Pure Evil 3: Return of Pure Evil

#### Part 1

Of all the benefits that come from my relationship with Kakarott, sleeping with him is not one I would have anticipated. Great food, sparring, sex, yes. But there is something quietly joyful about waking up in our bed with his arm draped over me, his breath stirring my hair, the heat of his body against mine. I bask in his warmth without moving. Soon he stirs beside me as he wakes up as well; the first thing he does is lick me on the ear. I open my eyes.

It’s just before dawn, and the sky outside our window glows grey and pink. I roll over; Kakarott is as magnificent as ever, relaxed and glowing with energy from his rest. I purr and nuzzle his shoulder. His tail curls around my ankle, and then he sits up. I smirk to myself as he climbs off the bed and stretches. Our house may not be much of a royal palace, but the views are spectacular. He takes a pair of orange pants and pulls them on, deliberately waving his tail at me as he threads it through its opening. “What do you want with your eggs, Vegeta?”

“Bacon and mushrooms.”

He pads out to start breakfast; I head into the bathroom for a shower (a cold shower). A typical morning for us – Kakarott does most of our cooking, since he enjoys preparing food just as much as he does eating it. That, and I don’t know how. By the time I get dressed and walk down to the kitchen, two steaming plates of eggs are on the table: mine with bacon and mushrooms, his with sausage, onions, peppers and cheese. Besides that there’s a pitcher of fruit juice and a big basket of rolls fresh from the bread-making robot Bulma gave us as a coronation present. I take a roll and sit down.

“So, what’s on the King of Saiyans’ schedule today?”

“I have a private meeting with the King of Earth. Maybe without the rest of Earth’s leaders there, we can actually get something done.” This planet is in the hands of idiots like Mr. Satan, jealous of Saiyan power and too cowardly to admit it. Or others who think anyone powerful wants to thrash them for amusement (wrong, we thrash strong people for amusement). The king of Earth may look like a blue terrier, but he at least has wisdom and perception, which is more than the others do.

“How about you?”

“I’m teaching Gohan more spaceship engineering. Just in case.” He’s leaving for New Namek in a week. “We should be done by lunch.”

“Spar in the afternoon, then?”

“Hn.”

***

Kakarott teleported into the King of Earth’s office at ten o’clock exactly. The terrier jumped at his sudden appearance but immediately relaxed. “Thank you for coming, Kakarott.”

“No, thank you, Ilya.” They never bothered with all the majesty business between themselves. “I think now we’ll be able to discuss this situation without all the hysterics.”

“Indeed. Take a seat, Kakarott. I must say, being King suits you. I never would have guessed what was lurking inside Goku.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he replied with a chuckle. He leaned back in the sturdy wooden chair and scratched the back of his neck. “Where should I start? The Saiyan immigrants are having a hard time adapting to Human laws and customs. And they have a hard time taking you seriously because you come across as children to them.”

“They’re getting a reputation as barbarians because of it,” Ilya sighed. “And the humans in the area are scared because the Saiyans are so aggressive, even though the aggression is never directed at them. Frankly, I don’t know if our two species are ready to be roommates on the same planet.”

“Maybe I should just wish for the Saiyan homeworld back.”

The terrier’s ears went straight up. “That could work! And any Saiyan that wanted could live here and learn about Humans … and vice versa, I hope.”

“Of course.” Kakarott considered. “Earth’s Dragonballs are inactive right now, but I could use the Namek balls; I think this had better be done as soon as possible. Looks like Vegeta and I are going to tag along on Gohan’s trip.”

“Please tell me you’re going to appoint a regent.”

“Mirai is next in terms of dominance, so the other Saiyans will listen to him. Don’t be fooled by his punk attitude, he’s capable.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ilya rummaged around in his desk and pulled out an envelope. “Since you’re going to New Namek, perhaps I can ask you to carry this for me. It’s a proposal to the Namek elders to exchange scholars between our worlds. If you would extend them the same invitation, it would improve understanding between all three races. Something that is sorely needed.”

“That’s true.” Kakarott took the letter. “This king stuff is a headache. I feel way out of my depth sometimes.”

Ilya laughed. “You’re doing better than you think. How many times have I seen you scratch your neck and then suggest something that makes perfect sense and that nobody else had thought of.”

“Really?” He wouldn’t even have taken the crown if Vegeta’s father hadn’t made such a nuisance of himself, but Ilya was right, the job did suit him. He felt like he was watching over a very large, very unruly family – complete with the whining, childishness and petty bickering.

“Really,” Ilya assured him, flicking his ears back and forth. “You’re much too modest, my boy.”

“A modest Saiyan. Now I’ve heard everything.” They talked a while longer, about the details of the Saiyan settlement, about technical issues, about the general business of being Kings. And then around lunch time he left to find the one Saiyan he never found it a bother to rule.

_Vegeta._ Fate had thrown them together, first as enemies, and he had learned to respect his strength and mind; later as allies, and he had learned to respect his heart. He had always understood Vegeta’s actions in a way the other Z fighters never could, a way only another Saiyan could. Cell. He hadn’t liked it when the Grand Kai practically blackmailed him into staying in the other world to train and then forbade him from telling his family why. But he wasn’t worried, because he knew that Vegeta would watch over them. He’d talked to Gohan regularly in dreams, so he knew he’d been right.

Then came Buu. They fought side by side, died for each other, fused, were restored to life. Vegeta was the first to see his true personality. He’d been acting on instinct, finally asserting his rightful dominance. The lust hadn’t been too shocking, as he’d always thought Vegeta was attractive, but he hadn’t expected Vegeta’s reaction. He’d expected the prince to fight him; he was surprised – and gratified – by how completely Vegeta had surrendered to him. And it was just astonishing how an act of trust could turn the prince into a quivering mass of flesh. Of course he trusted Vegeta. What was so remarkable about that?

#### Part 2

Kakarott teleports straight to my side; he pauses a bare moment to see if I’m doing anything delicate, then spins me around and kisses me. I eagerly kiss him back just to taste him on my tongue. From somewhere nearby Gohan exclaims, “Can’t you two stay off each other for more than five seconds?”

“No,” we reply in unison.

“How did the meeting go?” I ask as we step apart. 

“Fairly well. We figured out how to keep the Saiyans and Humans off each other’s backs, but it’ll take the Namek Dragonballs. Is there room for three in that ship?”

“At least the cabins are soundproof,” Gohan grumbles. “Yeah, there’s room for eight. What are you wishing for?”

“To bring back the planet Vegetasei,” Kakarott answers – and then has to stop when I pull him into a passionate kiss, purring like a high-performance engine. Our own planet! I haven’t realized how much I missed it until he mentions it.

“Well, I can see you think it’s a good idea,” Gohan says to me. “Are we being kicked out of Earth then?”

“No, anyone who wants to stay, can stay, and Humans and Nameks will be able to live with us.” He looks down at me, still plastered against his side. “You think you can hold it together long enough for our spar, or should I just take you now?”

“I didn’t need to hear that!”

“Of course I can still spar, Kakarott.” But the look I give him promises it will be a long and interesting evening.

“Urg. I’d better double-check that soundproofing.”

***

The Capsule Corporation spacecraft lifts off without difficulty, exactly on schedule. Gohan pilots; I sit next to him watching the engine readouts and feeling Kakarott stare at me from behind. I am frustrated. First he’s going to bring back my homeworld, and says it like it’s no big deal. And then when I want to show my appreciation, he _refuses to touch me_ for the whole week until we leave. I’m sure he’s up to something.

We leave Earth’s atmosphere and Gohan puts the ship on autopilot. “All right, now we can go settle into our home for the next two weeks.” We release our seatbelts, walk through the main cabin (where Gohan has put up a sign saying “clothing required”) and step into our own compartment. As might be expected, it is a bare metal box with a bed folded up into one wall, a table and seats folded into the other, and some storage drawers.

“The décor could use a little work,” I comment.

“True, I need something attractive to look at. Take off your clothes.” Smirking, I obey and then strike a pose, kneeling with my hands stretched over my head. I’m hard; actually I’ve been hard all day, just from being in Kakarott’s presence. He grins. “Just imagine. Two weeks together in this room. With nothing to do but eat, sleep and – ”

“Kami, Kakarott, just take me!”

“Oh, yes.” He starts to undress. “I’m going to take you in every way, in every position.” His words touch that deep part of me, that core of instinct and emotion that the world never sees; the part of me that wants nothing more than to feel his power over me. I gasp and fall to the floor with my hands behind my neck, tail raised over my back and thighs spread wide. A silent plea: _take me, take me now, and leave nothing behind._ It’s been a long five days.

He wastes no time in answering me; clothes hit the floor, lube is squeezed out and then he’s on top of me. He thrusts into me without preparation, much like our first time, and like that time I accept him easily. I howl from the sheer joy of having him inside me again. No room for thought; our passions rise much too fast. I barely have time to register the pleasure before it crashes over me, stealing my voice and making my limbs convulse. Just two thrusts later Kakarott explodes with a mighty bellow. He rolls me over and we look at each other; we can both tell that this has done no more than take the edge off.

“Two weeks,” Kakarott says.

“Will I still be able to walk by then?”

“Not if I can help it,” he grins. I smirk back. Two whole weeks. Of course we can’t do this all the time – we’ll have to help run the ship, I’m sure Kakarott wants to spend time with his son, and we have to eat and sleep sometime. But the rest of the time I’ll be right here, on the floor of our cabin, waiting on Kakarott’s pleasure. “I’m going to see how long you can last,” he says. “I’ll take you so hard that you’ll think you’re being split in half. Or I’ll torture you slowly until you beg for mercy.”

“You think you can make me beg?”

“I know I can.” Of course it’s true. He knows exactly how to make me beg and enjoy every minute of it. The mere thought has me aroused. Kakarott leans down and licks me on the lips, then gets a look on his face that says something’s just occurred to him. He stands up and sticks his head out the door. “Gohan! Is the soundproofing working so far?”

“ _Yes. Never ask me that question again._ ”

I sit up on the floor. “Are you trying to traumatize him, Kakarott?”

“He’s an adult, he needs to learn to deal with it.” He rakes me up and down with his gaze. It’s at moments like this that he looks his most commanding: hands braced at his sides, tail poised behind him, brows drawn down in a ferocious stare. His battle stare. Kami, how could I ever think about destroying such magnificence simply because it threatened my unstable, hollow pride? That was weakness. This is strength. I lift my chin to show my collared throat, basking in his gaze.

His tail flicks. “Open up the bed, Vegeta.” Of course. I stand and pull the bed down to its useable position; behind me Kakarott rummages in the storage drawers. “On your back,” he orders. Better and better. I spread myself out enticingly, and he climbs on top of me; without delay he attaches leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles and chains them to the eyebolts conveniently set in the bed’s corners. (I’ve planned ahead.) “Now,” he says, “I believe I said something about making you beg.”

“Do your worst, Kakarott.”

“Count on it.”

#### Part 3

I test the chains on my arms; they’re light but solid, and as long as I keep my ki down, they should hold. Kakarott crouches over me and stares into my eyes. We both know he can make me beg just by sitting back and looking at me until I can’t wait any longer. But that’s not what he has in mind today.

He bends down and kisses me. Lightly at first, our lips barely touching. Then harder; he takes my lower lip between his and sucks on it. He runs his tongue over my mouth and I open to him; he presses his tongue into me. As he traces the inside of my lips I feel and hear him purr; I reach out with my own tongue to taste his mouth. He is all musk and pepper and heat. His tongue laps over my teeth, coaxes them open and plunges deeper into me. When he finds the sensitive spot behind my front teeth, I make a sound – a tiny sound, a bare whisper of a groan. He chuckles without breaking the kiss and continues to map out my mouth. With every sweet spot he touches, my noises get louder.

He draws back, but I don’t get a chance to protest his absence before his fingers are behind my ears. They rub and stroke expertly; Kakarott knows just how to make me melt into a boneless puddle. Once my whole body is warm and tingling under him, his hands move down to massage my neck and scalp. His fingers dig into my hairline and his thumbs press lightly on my throat. My back arches involuntarily and my tail lashes up against him; he traps it under his knee as he grins at me. He strokes both thumbs along my throat and a long moan rolls out of me. It’s the same reaction I get when he throws me while sparring: the feeling of his strength over me, the proof of his dominion.

His hands drop lower, to my shoulders, and stroke the large upper muscle along its edge. Suddenly one of his fingers leaves a blazing trail in its wake. I gasp and tense; open my eyes to see Kakarott looking at me with an enraptured stare, as if the pain has unlocked some hidden beauty from within me. According to Kakarott it has – with his mesmerized expression at times like this, I believe him. Knowing that I arouse him is more than compensation for the discomfort, and it is nothing compared to my pride that I am the only one he looks at with those eyes.

He trails his hands across my chest, back and forth, over and over, dozens of strokes. Every so often one of his fingers brings that searing pain. It must be a ki technique, and it’s totally random; I have no way of telling what each contact will bring. I don’t care. I press into all of them, pleasure and pain. I moan and scream. He sucks on my nipples and I get closer to the edge, but he can hold me in this in-between world for as long as he chooses.

He touches every inch of me – along my arms, where he licks my fingertips; over my stomach and down my legs, finding places I didn’t even know were sensitive. Always with those burning touches mixed in. If they leave marks, I must be covered in them by now. He spends an eternity massaging my feet; he strokes the insides of my arches, both sides of my heel tendons, the skin between my toes. Then he abruptly pulls away.

His hand wraps around my shaft. With the burning touch – milder than the others, so that the pain and pleasure are perfectly balanced. His action sends me into some unthinking realm of sensation; my head falls back and my moans turn into an incoherent stream of noise. He pumps me with his fist but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to bring me off. His other hand closes on my sac to torment it similarly. Still not enough. From somewhere inside me words start to flow out: “Kakarott … please … more … fuck me … please, Kakarott …”

He doesn’t wait. Without taking his hand from my shaft he plunges into me, with a growl that tells me just how much he’s been holding back. He thrusts hard; normally I wouldn’t last long before my climax, but the pain draws me out, taking me to a peak that I hadn’t thought possible. I wail under his dual assault until at long last – a sudden eternity, an endless moment – I fall over the edge.

My throat seizes up and cuts off my voice. Without noticing I tear through the leather shackles as my limbs thrash, and my seed spills out of me to strike Kakarott in the chest. He thrusts once more, as deep as he can, and pours his seed into me with an earsplitting roar. This ship’s soundproofing had better be good or Gohan will end up scarred for life. Kakarott settles on top of me with a sigh; I am too drained to move. He takes one of my wrists and licks the mark that the shackle made on it.

“I told you I could make you beg.”

“Did I ever doubt you?” My reply is weak and drowsy. I swear, one of these days he’s going to make me pass out from sex. He tucks my hand under my head and turns his attention to my other wrist.

“Vegeta. How would you like to feel my domination for the _entire_ trip?”

“What did you have in mind?” There are already several rules that I live under; some are things he demands of me, others are my gifts to him, like the rule that I must not climax without his touch. Most of these rules apply to when we have sex, though; I get the feeling he means something broader in this case.

“While we are on this ship you will not sit on any chair; you will stand or kneel…” Simple rules, and ones that will control every aspect of my behavior on this trip. They fall on my ears like a lullaby; by the time he finishes with, “and you will not touch your tail without my permission,” I am purring. He smiles and turns us on our sides. “We’ll talk about it when we wake up.” He pulls me close to his chest and I drift off to sleep with him still inside me.

#### Part 4

During the following two weeks, I do not sit in a chair or let my knees touch each other, I do not touch my tail, lick or suck anything without permission, and I keep my hands clasped behind my back whenever I’m not using them. Five simple rules, but the constant vigilance they require! I am aware of them in every waking moment, aware of Kakarott’s mastery in virtual chains more binding than any steel, even when he is not watching me.

I slip up exactly once. It happens during dinner one night when we have been eating honey-baked ribs from a capsule. Naturally all our hands are soon coated in the sauce, and this dish is a favorite of mine; I catch myself in the act of licking myself clean. I glare at my fingers in horror and rage. Is this how I serve Kakarott? Is this how I return his trust? I slam my fist to the table in disgust. Defeated by an inanimate object and my own carelessness. Kakarott doesn’t see it, he is speaking to Gohan, but he senses immediately that something is wrong. He says nothing during the meal and simply lets me stew. Once we are finished he leads me into our cabin. Shuts the door and stands looking at me. “Strike me, Kakarott,” I say in a tight voice.

 

“What for?” A flat demand, an order to confess. I tell him what I have done, and repeat my request. He seizes me by the throat, but then he smiles. “There is no need.” I look into his eyes and I understand: just by demanding punishment, I have earned forgiveness. I also see that if I had tried to hide my actions, he would show me no mercy. And I would deserve none; the very thought makes me feel ill. 

“Do what you will with me, Kakarott,” I whisper. That night, he holds me down on the bed and pleasures me until I am drained dry, as I surrender my body and soul to him. _Kakarott trusts me._ I will not fail him again.

***

When our ship lands on New Namek I _can_ still walk, but only thanks to a senzu bean. As Kakarott promised me, he has taken me in every imaginable position, hard and gentle, fast and slow. I’ve satisfactorily recovered my honor with regard to his rules, and I’m wearing a self-satisfied smirk; Gohan is starting to relax about his father being in a physical relationship, even though the soundproofing turned out to be less than completely effective. And Kakarott grins like a fool every time he looks at me.

The Namek elders are waiting for us when our ship lands. A grand reception, but we’re not exactly your average travelers. They seem to be keeping up with the news from Earth, because their leader greets Kakarott as King. “Welcome back to New Namek,” it says.

Kakarott replies with a nod. “Thank you for letting us visit, with the trouble we usually cause when we’re here.”

“Which is little compared with the trouble you prevent,” the Namek elder says. “We know Gohan’s purpose here, and I assume you are looking for the Dragonballs.”

“Yes, we intend to wish for the Saiyan homeworld to be restored, now that there are more Saiyans to live on it. And the King of Earth asked me to give you this.” He holds out an envelope. “He wants to work on better understanding between all our races.”

“Admirable goals, both of them.” The Namek takes the letter. “If you have no plans for the other two wishes, may I suggest you use one to establish links between our three worlds.” It pauses. “Be alert. It seems trouble has preceded you this time.” I snort. Wonderful. Why can’t these missions ever be simple? “Someone else is also after the Dragonballs. They don’t have a sensor like yours, so they’ve been assaulting people for information. There have already been several incidents.”

Kakarott nods. “We’ll keep an eye open for them.” He turns to Gohan. “Well, son, I guess this is where we part ways. We’ll catch you on the flip side.”

“Hit them once for me, dad.”

I switch on the Dragon Radar. Sure enough, three of the balls are already in a cluster, and the nearest of the others is a thousand kilometers away. Time to begin the hunt.

***

Collecting the first four balls goes smoothly, although we have some trouble finding one of them that turns out to be stuck inside a hollow tree. Once we have those four I put them in a capsule for safekeeping, then we go after the remaining three. As expected, they’re being kept by a large group of well-armed aliens.

This is not a race I’ve encountered before. Bipedal, reptilian, natural armor front and back. They have turquoise skins and feathery feelers that are either hot pink or dark purple; probably a gender difference. I don’t get much chance to think about it because one of them (pink) spots us and immediately shouts, “It’s them! Kill them!” Normally I’m pleased to be notorious, but this time I’ll pass.

All of them – about two hundred – surge toward us. “What did he say?” Kakarott asks. I tell him and add, “They’re speaking the Icejin language, so they’re probably some of Frieza’s leftovers.”

“Great.” By now they’re on top of us and we take our fighting stances, back to back. There are a lot of them but they’re not that strong. Kakarott lets off a Kame hame ha that takes out ten of them at once. The two apparent leaders (pink and purple) are facing me. The purple-feelered one calls out in a distinctly feminine tone, “Hey Momo! Can I have the short one?”

“Not my type,” I shout back. “Big bang!”

Her hands snap up in front of her. “Kagami!”

“Shit!” I barely have time to dodge my own attack as it’s reflected back at me. How many of them know that technique? It looks like ranged attacks are out of the question; I power up to Super Saiyan and go after them with my fists. Anything I hit shatters – ten more fall, then twenty. Their only hope is to overwhelm me with numbers. I lose sight of the pink-feelered leader; behind me I hear two more Kame hame ha’s, and then “kagami!” The blast comes flying back towards us. Great, there’s two of them. Kakarott ascends as well and does as I do. Between us we manage to reduce the aliens by a third but there are still far too many of them; I ascend to Super Saiyan 2 for more power, so I can take out four or five opponents with each punch. Kakarott has gotten separated from me and we’re each surrounded by a squirming ball of turquoise lizards.

Suddenly the swarm around me drops back and the purple-feelered lizard is right in front of me. “This is for brushing me off. Leech touch!” she shouts, and slams her hand on my chest. Ki drains out of me. Her touch is sucking away my power; I fall out of level 2, then out of Super Saiyan all together. I realize that if this goes on she’ll kill me. I try to break her hold, but the other lizards swarm in again and hold me. As a last resort I start to suppress my own ki, lock it inside myself. I won’t be able to use it, but at least I’ll have some left.

Then Kakarott appears at my back with his arms over my shoulders, a glowing sphere already in his hands. “HA!” The lizard can’t shift techniques in time; the beam instantly kills her and about a dozen minions besides. My ki fluxes wildly for a moment, and I feel dizzy. Kakarott holds me steady. “That was close.”

“Hn. Thanks.” I gain control of my ki and ascend to Super Saiyan again. “They’re not that powerful, but that’s a nasty technique combo. Stay back and they bounce everything back at you; get in close and they suck your ki out.”

He looks around. “Any more of them?”

“I think it was just those two.” I can only sense one ki that’s higher than the others it belongs to the original pink-feelered speaker. “Say, do you think he can reflect two attacks at once?”

“I doubt it.” We fly off in different directions as we try to bracket him. I knock out a few more minions who try to stop me and then I’m in position.

“Kame hame ha!”

“Final flash!” Caught between our attacks, the lizard doesn’t stand a chance. What’s left of him falls to the ground between us. When the remaining lizards see both their leaders are dead they scatter in all directions, dropping their belongings in their scramble to escape. I check the radar; yes, that includes the Dragonballs. I put them in the capsule with the others, then turn to look at Kakarott. “I thought you didn’t like to kill.”

“They were trying to kill you,” is his explanation.

“I’ll have to give you a proper thank you.” Something flapping on the ground catches my attention and I pick it up. It’s a crude sketch of me, Kakarott, and a few other Z fighters. Kakarott looks over my shoulder.

“That explains how they recognized us.”

“It also tells us something about Frieza.”

“What’s that?”

“He can’t draw.”

#### Part 5 

Being regent was boring. Now, in the world of Mirai Trunks Vegeta Briefs, there were two kinds of boring: the good kind that meant not worrying about people trying to kill you, and the bad kind that came with doing chores you really didn’t want to do. Lately his life had mostly been the bad kind of boring. Why some people thought having a king excused them from thinking, he didn’t know. Did Kakarott get these idiots?

At least the Saiyans had calmed down after he went gold and knocked a few of them on the head. But he still got the human ones, like this one complaint about Saiyans sunbathing without clothes on. In their own village, mind you.

No respect, that was the problem. The humans didn’t respect the Saiyans, the Saiyans didn’t respect the humans and nobody respected him enough to shut up about it when he told them to. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he could match Kakarott’s reputation, but sometimes he thought it might be nice, just once, if …

The sound of the door interrupted his brooding. “Now what … oh, hey, Videl.”

“Hi, Mirai. How’s the regent thing going?”

“Don’t get me started.”

She giggled. “My, how official,” she said, looking around the Capsule Corporation conference room.

“Yeah, mom got tired of folks barging into her living room. Game?” he waved at the console hooked up to the room’s screen. “Or did you want something?”

“Actually I was looking for Bulma, but she’s neck deep in her lab. Do you know how to get a message to Gohan?”

“Yeah, I can do that. What kind of message?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Cool! Boy or girl?”

“Girl. And if you try to give her a sword as a present you’ll get it back point first.”

Mirai grinned. Too bad he wouldn’t get to see the look on Gohan’s face when he got _this_ news. A few minutes fiddling with the computers had the message drone loaded and launched, and then he talked Videl into a round of his favorite Kung Fu game.

“So, as the strongest available Saiyan on the planet, have you got a girlfriend yet?” she asked as they played.

“Not yet. Most of them are still fighting each other over me but they’re not going to get me. I’ve got my eye on the one girl though; she actually came and talked to me.”

“I thought Saiyans didn’t do all that touchy-feely stuff.”

“We don’t. She was sounding me out, and later she went and bought one of these.” He indicated the game console. “If she challenges me to a game, I’ll take her seriously.” They played several more rounds (score: Mirai 8, Videl 6) before they were again interrupted. This time it was the one Saiyan idiot Mirai’s family was afflicted with. He rolled his eyes as he paused the game. “What do you want, Gramps?”

“Insolent whelp!” Vegeta senior thundered. “How dare you speak to your elders in that fashion! Do you have any claim to power? Did you kill Frieza?” Actually he had, but it wasn’t worth his time to straighten the old geezer out. And just then, conveniently, the phone rang – priority ring.

It was Piccolo. “We have an attack, some kind of aliens. Meet me there.”

“Right.” He hung up. “Sorry, gramps, I need to go save the planet. Later, Videl.”

***

Mirai, Piccolo, Trunks and Goten arrived at the meeting place simultaneously. Nearby Mirai could sense a group of alien kis, middle strength. “Ok, what are we dealing with?”

“I haven’t got much data,” Piccolo said. “They’re reptilian, they have an attack that drains ki to the point of death, and they’ve been demanding to know where Kakarott and Vegeta are.”

“Bad timing.”

The alien kis changed direction, heading straight for them, and a few minutes later they were face to face. Three demi-Saiyans and a Namekian on one side, twenty turquoise armored lizards with pink and purple feelers on the other. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then one of the lizards stepped forward. “We know of you, purple-haired Saiyan! You are the one who slew our beloved Lord Frieza! Thus I serve notice to you, to the Saiyans Vegeta and Goku, and to all those who dared to stand against him: we will avenge the death of our lord!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Mirai drew his sword, went gold and pounced on the speaker. Behind him the younger demis’ kis also rose as they went on the attack.

“Big bang!”

“Kame kame ha!”

“Kagami!” Two of the lizards shouted, and the boys’ attacks bounced right back at them. Mirai was too busy to see if they dodged; these lizards were faster than they looked. His opponent got a hand on his left arm and shouted, “Leech touch!” He felt his ki start to drain away. But the lizard hadn’t counted on his sword; he snapped it up and lopped off the lizard’s hand, then did the same to its head. As soon as it lost contact, his ki returned.

“Great. They’re defended from range attacks and if you touch them, you die. Goten and Trunks, double up your attacks. Piccolo, back me up.”

That’s how they fought the battle. The younger demis attacked lizards with simultaneous attacks, and Mirai slashed them with his sword before they could touch him, Piccolo keeping the others off his back. Soon enough they had eliminated all but one of the aliens. It turned tail and fled, shouting over its shoulder, “We are not the last! You will see more of us, until our lord is avenged! And we have leaders even more powerful than ourselves! You will pay!”

Trunks and Goten gleefully flew off in pursuit. Mirai just wiped off his sword and sheathed it. When all was said and done, he really would rather be bored.

#### Part 6

The adrenaline rush after a sparring match is nothing compared to a real life or death fight. I’m panting, bruised and splattered with the blood of my enemies, and all I want to do is jump on Kakarott and give him his thank you _right now._ He feels the same – he seizes me and crushes our lips together, devouring my mouth with such ferocity that he seems about to eat me alive. In moments I’m rock hard and gasping; he looks down at me with glittering eyes.

“Not here,” he says, and ITs us back to the hollow tree where we found one of the Dragonballs. There’s a convenient patch of grass there, and he sweeps his foot through it, searching intently.

“What are you looking for? Landmines?”

“Thistles.” He has a point. While he checks, I discard my clothes and get a tube of lube out of a capsule; once he’s satisfied the grass has no nasty surprises, he turns to me. “You said you wanted to thank me for something. Show me what you’ve got.”

I jab a cocky finger at his chest. “I’ve got everything you want, Kakarott.”

“Show me.”

I smirk, and drop my hand down to his sash. I tug it open, unwrap it, let it fall to the ground. I push the top of his gi off his shoulders, then slide my hands under his blue shirt and lift it off him _very slowly,_ caressing his nipples along the way. I toss the shirt aside and lean in to take a long lick of his chest, then drop to the ground. I lift each foot, slide the boot off and briefly suck on his ankle before setting it down. Finally I reach up, still kneeling, and undo his pants. I thread his tail out first, and then pull the pants off his hips. My objective is revealed. The problem with being so short, though, is that I can’t properly suck him off in this position. I lick the inside of his thigh. “Take a seat, Kakarott, the show will be starting in a moment.”

He chuckles and lounges at the base of the tree, with me kneeling between his thighs. His shaft stands up thick and golden before me but I don’t touch it right away; instead I start on his tail. I run my hands lightly along its length, base to tip, then back while ruffling the fur gently. Out to the tip again, squeezing, the grip that makes children go limp but has a different effect on adults. I see him clench his fists on the grass. I raise his tail tip to my mouth and nibble on it; his hips jerk. Excellent. I nibble and suck my way up his tail’s length, tasting every inch. I loop the end around my neck until I am wearing a furry collar several loops long.

Eventually I reach his buttocks and lick up his cleft to his entrance. Here I stop to lavish my attention on it; the way into him, where only I, and only rarely, am privileged to go. I can’t help but make a groan of delight as I taste him. His shaft is like bread and water to me, but this is an exotic delicacy, curled and folded around itself like the bud of some steely flower. He purrs loudly as I lap at him, but I am not finished yet. 

I leave his entrance and suck on the skin just above it. Then I lick his sac and take it into my mouth. Roll my tongue around it, massage each of his balls in turn. His tail tenses around me; I release his sac and move on to the grand finale. I trail my tongue up the underside of his shaft, and when I reach the tip I glance up at him for a single smoldering moment before I swallow his whole length. I close my eyes in pleasure as he fills me. For a long minute I do nothing but stroke him with the muscles of my throat, lips and tongue. I can’t suppress my muffled whimpers and moans as I devour him, and I can hear his purr grow louder and deeper.

And there is something I can do to bring him even more pleasure. I grope behind me with my tail, find the tube of lube and bring it to my hand. Without looking I twist off the cap and coat my fingers. Then I press against his entrance. He makes no move to stop me, so I slide my fingers into him. He squeezes around me, tight and hot; I touch his sweet spot and feel the shudder run all through his body, around my neck and down my throat. He is inside me and I’m inside him; it’s one of the best moments of my life. His purr builds into and earthshaking rumble as I suck and stroke him. It rises, wavers oddly, and suddenly explodes into his shattering roar. His tail tenses on my throat and I feel his seed rush into me. I lick him clean, then slide my fingers out of him. _That_ …was perfect.

He takes a few deep breaths and looks down at me. “You didn’t come, Vegeta.”

“Hn?” I look down; indeed, I’m still hard and leaking. I’ve been so lost in serving him that I didn’t even notice.

“I want to see you come.” He nearly gets his wish just by speaking it, with that tone of voice. I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath, then give him my best smirk.

“As you wish. Think you can go another round?”

He snorts. “I’ve got more left than you.”

“Good.” I stroke him back to hardness with both hands, which doesn’t take very long, then slick his shaft with lube and straddle him. As I sink down onto him, I realize that I must do something to slow myself down; I am already so close to the edge. Even now my throat is trembling with the first notes of what will become a nonstop howl before I’m through … ah. Of course. And Kakarott should like it as well. I lift my hand gather my ki, and slowly scrape burning fingers across my chest.

When Kakarott did this he didn’t leave marks, but I do so just for the added effect. Four red welts appear on my skin. Kakarott’s eyes grow wide; here I am, impaled on his cock, _hurting_ myself for his delectation. As I writhe under my own fingers I move slightly up and down on him. My skin becomes covered in scarlet marks, and I don’t bother to suppress the sounds of pain and passion coming from me. My face is transfigured with the beauty of my pain, and what’s more, I’m staring right at him the whole time. Of course I am – the look on his face is priceless. I am certainly going to do _this_ again.

I drop my hand lower, to my shaft, still as hard and aching as when I started. And I don’t turn down my ki. Kami, how it burns! My eyes lose focus and my voice rises to a wail – maybe his name, I’m not sure. I can no longer make out his expression, but his actions leave no doubt as to his thoughts: in the next moment he flips us over and pins me to the ground, pounding into me wildly. Without the pain balancing it, my passion overwhelms me and in seconds my climax rips over me like a typhoon. Twitching, straining, aware of nothing but his shaft inside me … and then his roar as his seed pours into me. Claimed both ways – all ways. He collapses on top of me.

When I can think coherently again, I reach up and scratch his ears. “Shall I take that as _you’re welcome_?”

“More like _holy shit_. You’re unbelievable, Vegeta.” He gives me a soft kiss. I smirk; it takes a lot to make Kakarott lose control like that. I’m the only one who can do it.

“All yours, Kakarott. All yours.”

#### Part 7

After a night’s sleep to recover from the battle and its aftermath, we set out to find an open area big enough to summon the Dragon in. While we fly, we go over the wishes we intend to make. First, to restore the planet Vegetasei (Kakarott refuses to change the name). Second, to create permanent links between Vegetasei, Namek and Earth. That leaves one wish open.

“We could just let the Dragon go,” Kakarott says.

“Actually, I have a suggestion.” One that has been knocking around my head for a while now. “I know we agreed not to revive any individual Saiyans without cause, but there is one I think deserves to come back. Bardock.”

“My father?”

“Yes, but not just for that reason. I told you he had visions. He foresaw Vegetasei’s end; he has a right to see its rebirth, I think. Besides, he’s an experienced field commander, which is a skill we’re going to need.”

“Ever practical, eh? All right, we’ll give it a shot.” We find an appropriate meadow, lay out the Dragonballs and Kakarott speaks the invocation. The sky darkens, and Porunga appears in a swirl of wind. 

“ _Greetings, King Kakarott,_ ” it says. “ _I see you have finally dispensed with that childish persona._ ”

“Yes. I was just waiting for the right moment.” He tosses me a wink.

“ _Indeed. Now, for what purpose have you called me? Speak, and you shall receive it._ ”

“For the first wish, I ask that the planet of Vegetasei be restored.”

“ _This I shall grant._ ”

“For the second wish, I ask for links to be created between Earth, New Namek and Vegetasei.”

“ _This I shall grant._ ”

“And for the last wish, I ask that the Saiyan Bardock be brought back to life. Here,” Kakarott specifies carefully.

Porunga pauses as it communicates with the afterlife. “ _This I shall grant._ ” A sleeping Saiyan warrior appears before us, complete with armor and scouter. The family resemblance to Kakarott is obvious. A data chip also blinks into existence, floating in front of me. “ _That contains the coordinates of your planet. Please take better care of it this time._ ” With that the Dragon vanishes, the dragonballs darken and fly apart. Kakarott and I settle in to wait for Bardock to wake up.

***

Bardock blinked and opened his eyes on the living world for the first time in nearly forty years. He’d been startled when a bodiless voice asked him if he wanted to return to life, but he’d immediately said, “Bring it on!” Hell was boring and he couldn’t find decent beer there. Whoever was responsible for this, though, hadn’t warned him about the headache. He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples, and saw the two Saiyans waiting for him.

One, with his upswept hair, was obviously from the royal family, but that wasn’t the one who caught his attention. The orange-clad warrior stood as if he owned the world, his tail waving easily behind him – that hair pattern, so much like his own, the face hauntingly familiar. He had seen it in a vision, once … “Kakarott?”

The other Saiyans nodded, in unison, just like a mated couple. “Welcome back to the living world, Bardock,” his son said. “Though I don’t know if I can call you father with a straight face.”

“No shit. You look older than I do.” He was still the same age, twenty-nine, as when he had died. He stood up and brushed himself off, making sure all his gear was present. He didn’t bother to turn on the scouter; if his vision had come true and Kakarott had beaten Frieza, his power level would fry the piece of junk in an instant. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“This is New Namek.”

“What happened to _old_ Namek?”

“Frieza vaporized it.”

“Figures. So you managed to kill the lizard before he wiped out our species?”

“It was that close,” the flame-haired one said. “The current Saiyan population, counting you, is 578 and four half-bloods.”

Kakarott added, “For a while we thought it was down to just me and Vegeta.”

“Yeah, and us hating each other’s guts.”

“I never hated your guts.”

“Yes you did.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Bardock had to chuckle at that. “Right, now I know you’re mated.” They both gave him identical glares, which only made him laugh harder. It took a few moments until he got control of himself. “I smell forty years’ worth of long story here, so what do you say we find someplace to sit and you can fill me in.”

“Sure. And we can get something to eat.” That was the kind of thing Bardock liked to hear. They flew a short way to a rocky outcrop, where Vegeta opened a little capsule device and set out a satisfying amount of food. Well, if his son ate like he did, they would be used to large appetites. He picked out a haunch of something or other and sat on a rock. Kakarott did the same, and Vegeta knelt at his feet. Bardock did a double take. “All right, now you can tell me how you got a prince to do that.” He looked them over again. “And why you’re wearing the royal scepter instead of him.”

Vegeta smirked at him. “That’s because he didn’t just mate with me, he claimed me. As for the rest – wait til you hear it, it’s hilarious.”

“Claimed?” Well, the prince _was_ wearing a collar. “If you could claim the likes him, son, you must really be something else. Now I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Don’t die now, you just came back to life,” Kakarott laughed. And he began his story. It took a long time, and parts of it would have been unbelievable if not for the way Kakarott spoke of them – as if magic dragons, time travelers and monsters that made Frieza look like a cub in diapers were what you would expect to encounter on a normal afternoon. Getting the purging programs knocked out of his head as a child – Bardock hadn’t thought that was possible. Fighting his brother and finding out his heritage; he was sad to learn that Radditz was dead, but not surprised, especially since the boy was dumb enough to threaten another Saiyan’s child. Seeing entire planets destroyed and returning them to life. Rising to Super Saiyan and beyond. Fighting against and beside the prince.

Bardock knew that it was rare for a warrior of Vegeta’s strength to allow himself to be claimed. But hearing their tale, he could see how Kakarott had pulled it off. The warrior he saw in those stories excelled in strength and intelligence, and he showed a depth of spirit the likes of which Bardock had never seen. It couldn’t even be called will, because he knew how to let go as well as how to hold on. And he spoke of all this as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. _His_ son. Bardock couldn’t keep a small grin of pride from his face. Vegeta noticed and winked at him. Yes, being Kakarott’s servant and mate was a privilege any Saiyan would jump at. And he was King as well; Vegeta was right, the later part of the story was funny as hell. Was Vegeta senior really such a twit? The tale wound down to the present and he asked, “So, did you bring me back just out of family feeling?”

“Partly,” Kakarott replied. “I heard about your visions, how you saw Vegetasei’s destruction. We thought you should get a chance to see its new beginning.”

“And do I get a job? I’m not the type to sit around doing nothing, you know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll have plenty to do. For one thing, you’re the only one we have who knows anything about field command. The two of us are used to fighting solo.”

“Looks like you’ve been promoted, General Bardock,” Vegeta chimed in. “Better you than me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Two words: _royal guards._ ” Bardock winced. He’d better get back into training right away …

Kakarott and Vegeta suddenly looked up, faces turning to the north. “What?”

“Trouble,” said Vegeta.

Kakarott scratched his neck. “Would you say Ice-jin?”

“Feels like. It’s powerful, though.”

***

Kakarott and I immediately gather up our belongings. Whatever it is that we’re sensing, it’s stronger than Cell, and that can only mean bad news. Bardock looks a bit confused; he doesn’t know how to sense ki, but his own is rising, ready for a fight although he doesn’t stand a chance at these levels. 

Another ki signature spikes briefly and fades. “That was Gohan.”

“We’d better go now.” Kakarott whips his tail around my wrist, claps Bardock on the shoulder and touches his forehead with his free hand. In the next instant we’re standing next to Gohan. Both he and Bardock look understandably startled. “Who’s that?” Gohan asks.

“This is your grandfather Bardock. Bardock, my son Gohan.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure. Now what are we fighting?”

Gohan laughs a little. “You’ll see in a minute, cause here she comes.”

“She?” The unknown ki signature is approaching rapidly. A speck appears in the sky and grows, its form blurred by its speed, until it lands in front of us with a boom. As the dust clears we can see it’s an Ice-jin. A _huge_ Ice-jin, at least three times the size of Frieza, and it has electric blue skin markings instead of purple. It sees us and laughs.

“Fortune smiles on me today! I sent my minions to your homeworld for you while I attended my business here, but now I have the chance to deal with you myself. I will have my vengeance for the deaths of my husband and sons before I return them to life!”

We look at each other. “Husband? Sons?”

“Is that what she said? Wait, don’t tell me that’s – ”

“Yes. It’s Frieza’s mother.”

#### Part 8

The female Ice-jin glares at us as we hold a hasty conference. “Uh, dad,” Gohan says, “Female reptiles are usually bigger and stronger than the males.”

“How much stronger?”

“That depends on the species.”

“Great.”

Bardock grimaces. “I couldn’t even face Frieza. I think I’ll have to sit this one out.”

“You can look after the senzu,” I tell him, and hand him my capsule belt. From the look of things we might need them.

“Thanks, I’ll – urk!” He suddenly claps a hand to his head, then shakes it vigorously. “Damn, I thought I was through with those.”

“Those what?”

“My visions.” He rubs his temples as if trying to ease a headache.

“What did you see?” Kakarott asks curiously.

“Just a flash. She was using some kind of ki technique.” He holds up his hands in the gesture for Kagami. I curse. If she can use _that_ technique, we are in deep shit. So what else is new?

The Ice-jin female grows tired of waiting. “Enough idle chatter,” she screams. “Feel the wrath of Queen Glace!”

She leaps toward us. We step apart; Kakarott ascends to Super Saiyan, then myself, then Gohan. Bardock just gapes at us. This is his first time actually seeing the transformation and I know well just how impressive it looks. Then Glace lands on top of us and we all fly up and out. The battle is joined.

We dance around each other at first, feeling each other out. Glace fights much like the rest of her family: all power attacks and brute strength, with enough finesse to be effective against a fast-moving opponent. She also uses the irritating Kagami technique and presumably its counterpart, Leech Touch. None of us are getting close enough to find out for sure. I’m sure she hasn’t shown near her full power, and she’s still in the first form. On the other hand, the three of us are just getting started too.

Glace realizes she isn’t doing us any damage and rises to the second stage. She starts attacking us in earnest and we return the favor. I let loose a Big Bang; as predicted she reflects it back at me, but I’m expecting it and slip aside. While she’s distracted Gohan hits her with a Masenko. It hits her in the side and she squeals in outrage. “How _dare_ you?”

“Well, I am fighting you, ma’am,” he replies apologetically. This only seems to annoy her more, and she shoots a volley of red killing beams after him. He dodges, and at the same time Kakarott throws a Kame hame ha at her. She barely turns around in time to reflect it and I take the opportunity to land a Big Bang on her ass. She whirls towards me, with the result that she also gets hit with the last part of Kakarott’s blast. We’re doing damage but her apparent ki isn’t going down, so she must be keeping a good amount in reserve.

Our dance brings Kakarott to my side and he whispers, “She doesn’t look too long on patience. Try taunting her a bit.”

“Hn.” An old favorite strategy. Make them lose their tempers and they stop thinking straight, make bad decisions, do stupid things. And having practically grown up in the family, I know what’s likely to piss Glace off. I wait for a relatively quiet moment, take a deep breath and call out, “Is that the best you’ve got? No wonder you let your brats do all the fighting. You should stick to arranging flowers, it suits you better.”

She shrieks in fury and leaps at me, too infuriated to focus a ki attack. I easily fly out of her way, laughing. Next Gohan chimes in,

“My mom always told me it was rude to fight girls.” Glace spins at him but before she can even attack, Kakarott shouts, “Come on, you two, she doesn’t look that feminine.” A classic oblivious Goku moment – except that I _know_ he did that on purpose. And he’s right on target. I may not know much about women of any species, but insulting their looks is bound to get them angry. She bellows and transforms to her third form.

Now our attacks aren’t doing any visible damage, so we ascend to Super Saiyan 2. I don’t feel worried. We still have several tricks in reserve, but we won’t know for sure until we bring out her full power. The taunting seems to have worked, though; her attacks show no sign of planning or subtlety, lashing out at whoever is in front of her.

“Kame hame ha!”

“Kagami!”

“Final Flash!”

“Masenko!” By the tiniest fraction, Glace’s ki drops and doesn’t rise again. There. We’ve gotten her to commit her full power in this form, and if we can keep her too distracted to change to the fourth, we should be able to finish the battle. Slowly but surely her ki begins to fall – but so does Gohan’s. He’s starting to get tired, and when he drops out of level 2 he moves away from the fight and powers down. He has enough left for one last big attack if we need it, but for now it’s down to the two of us. 

The battle is harder with just two fighters. Fewer attacks get through Glace’s Kagami. She starts aiming her reflections to hit us and we use more energy defending ourselves. Kakarott ascends to level 3; I’m pushing on the barrier but I won’t break through today unless there’s a total disaster. The power up helps, but we need more.

I spot Bardock from the corner of my eye, watching the fight from a safe distance. I remember something I heard once, that he invented the technique for – “Bardock! We need a moon!”

He nods and his ki shifts. Moments later silver light blossoms; I look straight at it and feel the tingle as the change begins. Level 2 Golden Oozaru. I roar and shoot a beam of energy from my jaws at Glace. She’s so surprised that she doesn’t get her hands up in time to reflect it. Kakarott adds a Kame hame ha, and after that Glace looks distinctly singed. I hear Kakarott’s bellow and I know he’s changed to Oozaru as well, but I don’t dare turn to look. Whatever he looks like, he would be much too distracting. 

From there the trend of the battle is clear. Glace gets in a few hits but nothing worth wasting senzu on. We carve her ki away piece by piece until with a final blast it disappears. We’ve won. Kakarott and I incinerate Glace’s body – we don’t want her coming back. Bardock shuts down his moon and we change back to our normal forms. 

Gohan and Bardock run over to us. “Dad, you should have seen yourself. That was amazing!”

“That was some fight. I see I’ll need some training before I’m up to modern standards.”

We chat a while as we wind down from the battle and tend our wounds. Then Kakarott takes us back to the spaceship. The Namek elders provide us with some supplies, and Kakarott assures them their problem visitors have been dealt with. And there is a message waiting for us from Earth.

“What does he mean, experimental evidence that demis are fertile with humans?” Gohan grumbles.

Bardock grins and slaps him on the shoulder. “It means I’m gonna be a great-grandfather, kid.”

I smirk at Gohan’s stunned expression. “I knew you had it in you, boy.”

“Technically he had it in her,” Bardock says, and Gohan turns red. Kakarott smiles at him. “Congratulations, Gohan. Do you want to come on to Vegetasei with us, or should we drop you home first?”

Gohan has to think about that for a minute. “I’ll go with you, then I can tell Videl all about it when I get back. You know I’ve always wanted to see Vegetasei.”

#### Chapter 9

I was so young when I left Vegetasei that I don’t know if this blue-and-tan sphere is the same planet or not. Bardock does, though. “There it is,” he breathes as he leans over the monitor. He sounds a little shell-shocked; he did experience having his world blow up around him, and didn’t really believe he’d see it again. Hell, neither did I. From where I stand behind Kakarott’s chair with my hands behind my back (yes, the same rules as before), I watch the image get larger. Our world is wild, pristine, unmarked by intelligent life. A new beginning indeed.

Gohan sets the ship down in an open area near the planet’s single energy source, which is presumably the Dragon’s planetary link. The heavier gravity pulls on our bones. Gohan shuts the ship down and opens the hatch. I wave my tail at Kakarott. “It’s your kingdom, you go first.”

He jumps down and just stands there, entranced. We’ve arrived in late spring and it’s a warm, breezy day; we can sense animals moving around nearby. He walks forward a few steps, then stops to inhale the scents of this new world. He turns to me with shining eyes. “We’re home.”

I move to his side and he pulls me into a kiss. I wrap an arm around his waist. He left this planet just days old, a third-class destined for a life of war and destruction by the orders of our alien master. He returns as the Legendary, head of a large and strong family, and king of a race ready to rebuild itself. He draws away from me, turns around again to take in the view. Then he looks down and his tail bristles. “This must be Porunga’s idea of a housewarming present,” he says; he picks something off the ground and tosses it to me.

It’s a ball, the size of my fist. It’s yellow. And it has three red stars emblazoned on it. Dragonballs? Here? I take out the dragon radar. Sure enough, seven glowing dots stare back at me. “Never mind those for now,” Kakarott says. “First let’s take a look at those links, and then we can go exploring. You know, Vegeta,” he murmurs in my ear, “It’s a full moon tonight.”

I purr wickedly. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

Gohan had already filled a whole notebook with notes, and they’d only been there half a day. Everything was so different; the species of plants, the animals, even the sky was a different blue. The older three Saiyans were all showing their fascination in their own ways: Bardock was wearing a shit-eating grin, Vegeta was smiling, not smirking, for the first time he could remember, and his father was wandering around with a look of wide-eyed wonder. They seemed to be much more affected than he was, but then this was their world in a way that Gohan didn’t quite share.

The links turned out to be large circular portals, framed with portraits of Shenron and Porunga to show which planet they connected to. Porunga had placed them in a large cavern, easily defensible. And they didn’t just transmit sound and image – the explorers found that out because their arrival had scared the living daylights out of Piccolo, who was examining the Earth portal from the other side. He jumped, stumbled, and fell _through_ the gate onto Vegetasei. Vegeta’s comment of, “Watch that last step, greenbean,” hadn’t helped.

A bit of experimenting revealed that only one person could cross the portal at a time, but that was a minor issue. They brought Piccolo up to date and sent him back to Earth, then went to find their first meal on this new world. By common agreement they went on a hunt, eventually caught a wooly oxlike animal and roasted it on a ki-fueled fire. Kakarott kept the skull as a trophy, and Bardock claimed the hide. After that Gohan retired to the ship to write down his observations before he forgot them. He worked until he felt the others’ ki shift as they turned Oozaru, and he realized the moon must have risen.

He went to the hatch – and stopped short as he looked up at his father. Looked _way_ up. Kakarott was in level 3 Golden Oozaru, as in the battle with Queen Glace, and this close he was that much more impressive. A golden mane tumbled over his neck and shoulders, lionlike, and his tail bore a matching tuft; luminous teal eyes looked down at him. He looked like an overlord fit for all this wilderness … he looked like a _king._ “Dad!” Unable to contain himself, Gohan ran forward and hugged one treetrunk leg. He didn’t even come up to his father’s chest. A thunderous purr rolled over him and the other paw gently brushed his back.

A deep bark sounded from the edge of the woods; Oozaru Vegeta stood there, a smaller dark form in the moonlight. Kakarott answered with a _whuff_ and then _churr_ ed at Gohan. The intent was clear: we’re going out, don’t wait up.

“Have fun, dad.” Gohan stepped back and watched the enormous creature pace into the woods, tail swishing behind him. He looked up to where Bardock was lounging on top of the hull, also in Oozaru. “It’s times like this I really miss my tail.”

***

We run through the trees side by side, the first Oozaru to set foot on this new version of the planet. The scent of the place takes me back to my childhood and wakens a playful energy that would astonish most of the people who think they know me. And Kakarott is the same. We chase and wrestle each other like children, reveling in the feel of an unoccupied, untamed planet, yet one that uniquely belongs to us. Or perhaps we belong to it. We have nothing to worry about here; no wild animal would dare to bother two adult Oozaru, one of them resplendent in level 3 gold.

Kami, Kakarott looks good that way. His huge mane makes him look even bigger than he already is, but it doesn’t interfere with his graceful movement; it contrasts with his body fur, which is not gold but russet red. And his tail … his _tail_. Waving behind him like a banner and I can’t take my eyes off it. Just a few swishes have me rock hard. By the time we break out of the forest I’m hard _and_ dripping, just from watching him move.

I can see and smell that he’s aroused too. He pounces on me, tumbling me over in the grass; I land on my back with him on top of me. He purrs so deep I feel more than hear it, then leans down and licks my throat. I purr in response and reach up to touch him, but his tail catches my wrist; it seems that tonight I will not be allowed to worship him as he deserves. His teal eyes twinkle and he starts licking me all over. Throat. Chest. Stomach. I try to press into his touch, but he pulls back just enough to keep the contact light.

He turns around so he’s facing my tail, and scrapes his tongue over my aching shaft. I moan and thrust into his mouth, and he closes his jaws around me. He sucks, and all my fur bristles straight out. His dark-skinned shaft hangs right over my face; a drop of his fluid lands on my nose and I lick it off. It tastes different. Richer. He crouches just far enough to press his tip to my lips and I suck on it eagerly; his purr vibrates around my shaft. The sensation is so intense that I nearly scream. He continues to suck me thoroughly up and down until I all but melt into a puddle.

He shifts position, forcing a few more inches of his shaft into my mouth. Heaven. And then he touches his tongue to my entrance. This time I do scream – my tail wraps around his foreleg and my jaw tenses on his cock. He licks me slowly, around and around, as I writhe helplessly under him. He slips his tongue inside me, swirls it around my ring, and then touches my sweet spot with it – I arch and roar around his shaft.

Kakarott pulls off me and turns me back over onto all fours. Instinctively I lay my head and shoulders on the ground and raise my rear in the air, inviting. He steps back and circles me, eyes raking over me, and I shiver in anticipation. Finally he steps behind me and mounts me; his weight settles on my back. He uses his instant lube trick – probably using up most of the lube we have left – and slides his shaft into me.

Dear. Sweet. Kami. (And I do not mean Piccolo’s better half.) He’s enormous. He’s as hard as steel and blazing hot. And he’s _ridged_. And … _knotted_. And – he pulls back, thrusts, and I am stripped of coherent thought. My knees collapse. I try desperately to work that stupendous cock deeper inside me, but his weight pins me to the ground so that I can’t move an inch. With every thrust those ridges tease my ring. With every backstroke those knots hit my sweet spot. I moan long and loud. I’m in paradise; he drives into me over and over again, and it feels like a lifetime, an eternity, a brief moment that ends much too soon. He sinks his teeth into my shoulder and growls. His shaft grows even larger and pulses as it fills me with his seed. It’s too much. I explode with pleasure, transfixed by a long, blazing climax. And then I pass out.

When I wake up the moon has set and we’re back in our normal forms. I’m curled up in Kakarott’s arms, still naked, and he’s teleported a blanket to wrap around us. The morning breeze stirs his hair as he lazily strokes my side. I lay my head back down on his chest. I’m home.


	5. Omake 2: Good Taste

New Vegetasei is shaping up nicely, with a little help from Capsule Corp and a lot of elbow grease. Most of the Saiyan colony has relocated and they’re building two settlements: one at the base of the portal mountain and the other on the site of the old capital a thousand kilometers away. Kakarott has chosen a place for his house nowhere near either of them, but in a spot with a lake and a good view. Typical.

All of our family, both sides, are here and busy. Even my father turns out not to be completely useless; forty years on a spaceship taught him a few things about infrastructure, so he’s in charge of laying out the water and power systems for both towns. Bardock has taken the “army” of about fifty out on a land survey to find out what, if anything, is different about the planet. Goten and Trunks are helping him out. Mirai has taken over the regular training classes, and I’m still in charge of the fast-track group – the fighters aiming for Super Saiyan. Finding out two twelve-year-old boys are already there has done wonders for their diligence. Gohan divides his time between Vegetasei, leading a group of scholars much older than he is, and his partner on Earth. And Kakarott, of course, is busy from dawn to dusk with solving other people’s problems. 

Our house on Vegetasei will be the same one as on Earth. Now that Kakarott has finally chosen a site for it, I take a day off from training to move it from Earth. It turns out the whole thing is a custom capsule unit; who knew? I spend most of the day shopping, fill the place to the rafters with Earth food, then collapse it contents and all and carry it back through the portal. I’m finished earlier than I expected, and once I’ve set up the house in its new location, I take the opportunity to arrange a little surprise for Kakarott.

He appears soon after dinner time, and immediately inhales the scent wafting through the house. “Are you taking up cooking, Vegeta?”

“Not exactly. I thought you might like a snack.” He turns to look at me and his eyebrows tilt up. I’m kneeling on the coffee table, naked. I dip my fingers in the bowl of warmed barbecue sauce beside me and draw a line with it from my throat to my navel. A purr starts to build in Kakarott’s throat. My fingers go back to the bowl and then trace along my collarbone. Back to the bowl, and then along the other collarbone. I watch Kakarott from under my lashes, my tongue slightly sticking out of my lips. _I’m delicious. Want some?_

Kakarott rumbles. I continue to cover my body with the sauce. Slowly. One line at a time, going back to the bowl after each. I outline the muscles of my chest and stomach. I draw stripes over my shoulders and zigzags down my thighs. I decorate my pectorals with diagonal rays. Kakarott gradually moves closer until he’s standing next to me; I look up at him as I swirl sauce onto my hardened nipples, and my head tilts back from the sensation. As a finale, I dip my fingers in the bowl and draw a long, lingering line around my sac and along my shaft. I slowly coat the head with sauce and then bring my fingers to my lips to lick them clean. I smirk at him as I finish the last one. An invitation.

He seizes me by the hair and plunges his tongue into my mouth, lapping up all traces of the sauce and not incidentally hitting all of my sensitive spots. I moan into his mouth. He chuckles and starts licking the sauce from my skin. He takes it off about as slowly as I put it on; I try to press into his touch but his hands hold me still. By the time he’s cleaned off my shoulders I’m gasping, and I swear he scrapes his teeth over my skin just to get more noise out of me. When his mouth comes down on my nipple I scream. I buck as he nibbles on the hard flesh, but he holds me flat against the table. He repeats his performance on my other nipple and I arch up helplessly.

He takes a _fucking eternity_ to lick his way down my stomach. His tongue is so enthralling that I almost forget what I’m waiting for. Almost. He avoids my shaft as he travels down one thigh and up the other. He pauses, studying me. Eyes glazed, chest heaving, skin coated with sweat and trembling under his hands. He growls in satisfaction, then lifts me up bodily and wraps his jaws around my sac.

Now I start howling. Kakarott likes to suck my balls, and he’s damn good at it. His expert tongue caresses each mass in turn, gently stripping off the sweet coating; as he sucks on me he makes little groans and grunts of delight. His purr sends shocks of pleasure straight through me. He deftly teases every sensitive nerve until I’m just one step away from the edge. Then at exactly the right moment he plunges his mouth over my shaft, sucking hard to get the last of the sauce off. My howl stops – I pour my seed into his throat as he circles his tongue on the head of my shaft.

He collects every drop and pulls me up for a kiss, sharing the combined fluids. I purr as I taste them, a mix of sweet and salty, with a touch of Kakarott’s own spice. I feel myself becoming aroused again. And I can feel his hardness under his pants; he reads the question on my face and whispers in my ear, “I’m in the mood for a little dessert. Go get your ki restraints.”

“As you wish, Kakarott,” I say with a leer, and slink off towards our bedroom. Whenever he wants to use the ki restraints, he makes me fetch them; it’s my out, in case I ever feel unable to play. I have no intention of ever using it. _Kakarott wants me._ He’s willing to spend entire evenings working me over, just to savor my sounds and the taste of my skin, the sight of my writhing body. I know he enjoys turning me into a screaming animal, and we haven’t had a chance for a serious scene since before we left Earth. He’ll make me forget my own name.

I take the ki suppressors from our headboard and return to him; he’s undressed and sitting in his chair. I kneel at his feet with the restraints raised before me. As usual he takes them from me and locks them around my wrists, and then leans in for a quick kiss. Apparently I’m irresistible; he pulls my head to his shaft and I eagerly take it in, but after only a few strokes he pulls me off him again. He stands and points at the table. “On your back.”

He chains me down spread-eagled, and then leaves me to stew for a minute as he goes into the kitchen. I’m aching just from being tied down with no chance of escape, but this is only the beginning. What is he planning? He returns with a box which he sets beside me – no clues to spoil the surprise. 

“Now for dessert.” Something ice-cold lands on my stomach. I hiss at the searing chill, but no sooner does the sound leave my mouth than his tongue licks the drop of cold from my skin. My nose tells me what he’s using: vanilla ice cream. Dessert indeed. He drops a second spoonful on my chest. The freezing pain is followed immediately by the touch of his lips, and I mewl. A third, on my shoulder. 

A pause, and I wait for the next drop; but when it falls it’s not cold but scalding hot. _Caramel sauce._ I yelp and I feel Kakarott purr as he licks it off. He continues to scatter drops of both randomly across my skin. _Ice … fire … ice … ice … fire …_ I don’t know where he will touch next, or whether he will give me hot or cold; the surprise makes each drop as shocking as the first. His lips bring pleasure equal to the pain, and soon I’m thrashing shamelessly in my chains. _Fire … fire … ice … ice … fire …_ It’s too much. It’s not enough. I want my entire body to be immersed in these sensations, not one isolated spot at a time.

Kakarott wanders over my chest and shoulders in a steady rhythm, never leaving a pause. My head rolls from side to side, I shout disjointed words and syllables without knowing what they are. He drops a piece of ice cream directly on my nipple and I scream; he lets it linger, the cold soaking in, before closing his mouth on it and swirling his tongue around my flesh. He repeats this on my other nipple with the hot caramel sauce and I can’t even scream anymore – I’m reduced to gasping and mumbling.

He backs off a bit to let me catch my breath, then continues his slow progress down my body. He marks out every nerve on my abdomen and navel. _Ice … ice … fire … ice …_ He also changes tactics, sometimes laying hot and cold on the same spot one after another. By the time he reaches my hips I am in full voice again. I am blind and deaf, oblivious to all but his touch. He works along the insides of my thighs, where the skin is most sensitive. He stops. And then fire and ice fall down, together, onto my throbbing sac.

My scream shakes the building. Before I run out of breath his mouth engulfs me; my voice falls off into a deep moan and I do my best to push my balls deeper into his jaws, but the chains hold me immobile. I thrash as he licks my sac clean, my only thought to have more of his touch. His tongue patiently massages my balls, with a pressure that makes me claw at the table.

Then, between one moment and the next, his mouth is gone and he buries his shaft in me. Pleasure replaces pain. Kakarott slams into me again and again; his flesh is the only real thing in my universe. I spiral higher and higher on his thrusts until my full climax breaks over me. It steals my voice, my sight, all external perception.

I come back to my senses in time to see Kakarott in the throes of his own orgasm. Or orgasms, by the look of things. With each long thrust he roars and I feel more of his seed pour into me. After five or six he finally slows down and falls on top of me. I am too drained to do anything but lie there; Kakarott barely moves as he releases the chains. He tumbles us onto the sofa and pulls the blanket off the back to cover us. He picks up one of my hands – my wrist has a dark bruise all around it from the shackle. 

“That was the kind of dessert I like.” He lays his lips on mine, gently, and I taste the last traces of vanilla, caramel and spice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::scoop, scoop:: I’m hungry now. ::scoop, scoop, scoop::


	6. Omake 3: Shameless

Neither I nor Kakarott have ever actually attended a proper Saiyan festival. That may be why, on this first anniversary of Vegetasei’s rebirth and the first such festival in over forty years, our subjects have pulled out all the stops. All of us are here: the 575 ship-borne Saiyans, 83 newborn babies, the eight, now, of the royal family, and most of our human and Namek family and friends, assembled in one grassy valley. Of course Kakarott has the best seat: on a platform at one end of the field they have built a throne for him, carved in wood and just the right size. He sprawls back in it as soon as we arrive and he looks a sight, in his usual loose pants and boots with an embroidered vest that leaves his chest bare. All he needs is a mug of beer – which someone promptly presses into his hand – and he is the perfect portrait of a Saiyan king. He looks over at me. “Where are you going to sit, Vegeta?”

“Hn.” There are no other seats nearby, but remembering my history, I look in the base of the throne. There, as I expect, is a thick cloth mat; I lay it at his feet, then kneel on it and throw an arm over his thigh. “How’s this?”

“I like it.” His tail brushes along my back. A hush falls over the crowd, and the day’s MC raises an eyebrow at us; it’s the King’s job to open the festivities. Kakarott bangs his mug like a gavel. “I declare the first annual Rebirth Festival open. Party down!” He drains his beer. A roar goes up from the crowd. A young man with a keg on his shoulder refills his mug and I wave at him for one of my own. On our left Goten and Trunks are lounging on the edge of the platform with cups of what they think is beer. On our right, Gohan, Videl and their new daughter. You’d never guess that Pan is only a quarter Saiyan; it doesn’t seem to bother Bardock, who is over there playing with his great-granddaughter. Mirai is over by one of the snack tables talking to a girl. It’s about time. And while I haven’t seen my old man yet, I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Even Bulma is here, wearing some kind of belt to deal with the higher gravity.

Saiyans being Saiyans, the festival is mostly about food, contests, dancing and more food. Several dozen roasting pits, each housing a huge carcass, line the edge of the grounds, and tables throughout are loaded with mounds of pastries, fruit and anything that can possibly be impaled on a stick. Kakarott and I get our share of all of them, since each contingent sends part of its offering to us in tribute. I’m amused to notice that each one includes a card listing the recipe; word of Kakarott’s hobby has gotten around. Meanwhile, our own contribution, a barbecued dinosaur, is vanishing with astonishing speed, once word gets around that Kakarott made the sauce with his own hands. It is, after all, a great honor to be fed from the King’s table …

Throughout the day matches blaze across the field before us; on the ground and in the air, displays of refined technique and plain grudge matches. Goten and Trunks fight a Super Saiyan exhibition match. Videl is called out to defend her place as Gohan’s mate and handily trounces all comers. There are running and flying races, trials of dexterity and ki manipulation. Kakarott and I watch from our seats and congratulate the winners. There are no prizes; for us, winning itself is prize enough. A stream of people wander up to the dais to pay their respects to the King, and Kakarott takes a moment to speak with each one. I have no doubt he’ll remember them all later.

And of course, there is dancing. Like most things Saiyans do, dancing is a means to display power. Younger Saiyans dance to attract mates. Couples dance together to defend their claims. Rivals dance in opposition, to assert dominance. And it all happens in front of the throne where the King can see every step. Someone talks the Nameks into demonstrating one of their dances; I had no idea they even had dances, but it’s what I would expect from the asexual stringbeans. Slow, stately, accompanied only by their harmonious chanting, and totally out of place beside the loud, drum-heavy Saiyan music. No wonder we used to be at each other’s throats all the time. Later the Royal Guards take the field and perform a dance that’s more than half drill routine. Kakarott taps me on the shoulder. “You want to take a turn?”

I lick my lips at the image this invokes. “Bring it on.”

Kakarott waves the MC over and quietly explains what he wants. At the end of the next round, he announces, “Now the King and Royal Consort will grace us with a dance.” The crowd falls back, murmuring, as we step off the front of the platform. Kakarott flicks his tail at the MC and the music starts. An Earth song; the first notes are slow and drawn out as I chose my starting pose: back to Kakarott, pressed against his chest, my hands stretched back and clasped behind his neck. The beat starts up and I move with it, just the tip of my tail at first. I snake it from side to side at half beat, but with each swing the motion moves higher until by the start of the first verse my whole body is writhing. Kakarott’s tail wraps around my leg from thigh to ankle; his lips drop to my neck. His tongue swirls on my skin in time with the music, with my body, with our tails roaming everywhere over each other. I can feel the gazes of the audience on us. I’m hard.

I need all of my concentration to stay at half time. This is not my usual dancing pole behind me; this is Kakarott, hot and hard and commanding – and he’s not about to just stand there. The song hits the first chorus and suddenly he’s moving, stepping neatly sideways. I match him step for step out of instinct bred on the sparring ground, because my rational mind is not paying attention. He leads me in a pattern all around the field, now facing him, now back to him, always with his hands on my skin. Suddenly I am thrown back over his arm while his other hand runs down my body from to chin to just above my groin. So close. A few lines later and his leg is somehow between my thighs. Then he spins me round and the wicked smirk on his face shows he knows exactly what effect he’s having on me. 

I smirk right back at him. _Look what I can do to you._ But then as the song goes into the last chorus he clutches me to his chest, grinding his hips into my back. Oh kami … my tail lifts up out of the way and wraps around his torso; now his shaft presses directly against my cleft.

Kakarott laughs into my ear. “You’re seriously ready for me to take you right here in front of everybody, aren’t you?”

“Mmmmm,” is the most intelligent response I can come up with.

“Maybe I will,” he continues. I can hear the lust in his voice, he’s as close as I am. “Maybe next time I’ll throw you on your knees in the dirt. I’ll rip the clothes off your body. I’ll ream you out with my thick, hot cock. I’ll hold you down and make you scream until every Saiyan on the planet knows exactly. Who. Owns you.” He punctuates his last words with sharp nips to my neck. Then he shoves me back against his hips; the pressure in front and behind is more than enough to send me over. Kakarott’s growl of completion echoes in my ears.

He turns me around for a deep kiss, and I match it eagerly as the music fades into silence. The audience stands stunned – strong as we are, Kakarott and I rarely display our power, and never quite like this. And only Saiyans would have the reaction that follows: they kneel, every single one of them. I know they want to be in my place, but they never will. Kakarott chuckles as we step back to our seats. After I kneel on my claim mat he stands in front of his throne and savors the moment: the entire Saiyan nation, to a man, is at his feet. He’s _that good_ , and he’s _mine_. He smiles at the MC, who practically grovels before him in return. “Continue the dancing.”

“Yes, my king.” The crowd slowly rises, and then there’s a rush for the dancing ground. It’s mostly young females, with a handful of males for good measure. Good luck, kids. Kakarott scratches my ears and I nuzzle his thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Just great. But my pants are all sticky now.”

“You could always take them off.”

“Good idea.” I strip off my clothes, stow them in the cavity under the throne, and return to my place buck naked save for my collar. I leer up at him. “Now what can I do to convince you to fuck me senseless tonight?”

“That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“It’s hard already, look.” He laughs. Other eyes are still on us, although there’s a sudden absence of couples. Working off their hormones, probably. Even Gohan and Videl have slipped off; Pan is playing with Goten and Trunks, and Bardock is checking out my ass. Like father, like son. Bulma is red in the face and I can’t tell if it’s lust or embarrassment. 

My view of the dance ground is blocked by a figure standing in front of us. I look up. “Oh. What are you doing here, old man?”

He glowers at me. “Have you no shame? How could any son of mine let himself be reduced to – to –”

“To what? The Royal Consort? The Grand Marshal? The second most powerful being in the universe?”

“You’re a naked slave in a collar!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The old man grits his teeth. “You’re being awfully quiet, my – hrrmph.”

“If Vegeta wants my help he’ll ask for it,” Kakarott says mildly.

A feline grin spreads across my face. My father must be burning with jealousy; he could never command that much devotion from our people, the stingy rat. And he never claimed anyone or had an official consort, or even much of a harem. And he has certainly never had anyone lay everything they value in his hands for him to keep safe. “You’re proud of this,” he accuses me.

“Damn straight I am. I’m a legendary Super Saiyan, I have more power than I know what to do with. I have a family, a home, and a mate who trusts me absolutely. Stand there and tell me if you dare, Father: what do I have to be ashamed of?”


	7. Omake 4: Three's Company

Kakarott holds court over another family dinner, a massive set of tongs his scepter. The scent of roasting meat fills the air. More of the family than usual is here – Bardock just tumbled in with his grandsons in tow; Mirai has brought his girl, who still seems a bit nervous around us royalty. Gohan and Videl are here with Pan. Bulma and her parents are here, as is my father, who is talking with Dr. Briefs. And of course, myself.

I’ve had an unusually hard day at training, so I am lounging on a wicker sofa in the middle of the lawn. Kakarott told me to “just sit there and look handsome.” How could I refuse an order like that? I drape myself over one arm of the sofa and display myself for his benefit. Not that other people present aren’t checking me out: Bulma, Mrs. Briefs, Bardock … Chichi is glaring at me with barely concealed jealousy. _You’re the one who threw him away, woman, so don’t look at me like that. Finders keepers._ Kakarott is looking at me, so I curl my tail over my hip and thigh for him. He licks his lips before turning back to the spit. A large mega-bison, which he and I stalked and killed, has been slow-roasting there all day. I don’t think our friends and relations need to know what we did last night with me flung over the dead beast’s back. I still have marks from it.

“Come and get it!” he shouts, and most of the gathering stampedes to the firepit. I stay where I am. As long as I am Kakarott’s mate, I will never have to compete for his food. The crowd slackens; Kakarott fills two plates and brings them to our seat. As usual he’s saved out the best parts for me. I purr, wrap my tail around his calf and dig in.

It’s near the end of the meal that Bulma approaches us. The way she walks catches my attention – she’s hesitant, not at all her usual style. She’s nervous – she’s embarrassed – she wants something. My curiosity is piqued and so is Kakarott’s; he invites her to sit down between us. If possible she looks even more nervous.

“All right, Bulma, what’s on your mind?”

“Yes, say something, woman, before you explode.”

She fidgets. “Well, I, I’ve been thinking lately, that it would be nice to have another child, and …”

“And you want Vegeta to be the father, right?”

Bulma and I both gape at him. She nods slowly. “There’d be talk if it was a different father. And I can’t complain about your genetics.”

“That’s all very well, but just how do you think you’re going to pry me away from Kakarott?”

She turns red. “Actually, I’d like it if you were both there. I mean, I thought that dance you did at the festival was really hot, and I can make sure it’s just once, and I’d like to see – that is – I mean …”

“Bulma, calm down. Breathe.” Kakarott’s commanding tone is enough to quiet her. He continues, “I don’t have a problem with it if Vegeta doesn’t.”

“I think it would be interesting. When did you get so kinky, woman?” She would never have suggested something like this when I was living with her.

Kakarott says, “My question is, can you handle it?”

“That’s not a problem, I’ve been training. See, no gravity belt!” She points proudly to her bare midsection. I’m impressed – not many humans can raise their ki that much. A little more and she’ll be able to fly.

“That’s great! I was talking more about the mental aspect, though. You can guess how wild we are; some people can’t handle giving up control in bed.”

“And some people wallow in it,” she says, eyeing me. “I think I’ll be okay. I trust both of you.”

“And that’s the most important thing. In that case, we’ll make it our place, and throw in dinner and breakfast.”

*** 

Bulma was nervous, although she’d never admit it. Here she was, on her way to a rendezvous with her best friend and the father of her children. To make matters worse, Chichi had cornered her after the picnic and dragged the whole story out of her. She’d been aghast at the very idea of Bulma sharing a bed with her ex-husband, and not out of jealousy either. “You don’t know what he’s like in bed,” she’d said in a tone usually reserved for ghost stories. “It’s scary … he’s like an avalanche. There’s no controlling him.” Well, he’d warned her, but it was hardly reassuring. She was about to have dinner and a night of wild sex with the two most powerful beings in the universe.

She landed her flyer and locked it down. Tugged her dress into place and checked her hair. Checked her jewelry. Made sure her keys were in her purse. _Stop stalling, girl._ She took a deep breath and walked up to the door.

It swung open to show Kakarott in the entryway. To her relief he was still normally dressed, in loose pants and t-shirt. Light and scent spilled out from behind him. _Whatever that is, it sure smells good._ He waved her inside. “Glad you could make it, Bulma.”

“Thanks for having me – uh – ”

He smiled gently. “It’s ok.” He led her into the living room, where Vegeta was removing the strainer from a pot of fragrant tea. Bulma was surprised not to see any alcohol, but she guessed this would be complicated enough without the addition of mind-numbing chemicals. Vegeta looked her up and down.

“Nice look.”

“Thanks. With all the training I’ve been doing, none of my old stuff fit anymore.” That led into an exchange of training anecdotes over a plate of appetizers and tea. When those were gone Kakarott excused himself to put together the meal, and Vegeta led her into the dining room.

“I’m really not your type, am I?” she mused.

“And I’m not yours. Not enough bolts.” He shrugged. “It was convenient. It was fun. And we got two children out of it. Three, soon.”

She didn’t get a chance to worry about this reminder of what they were going to do, because Kakarott came in with the soup. She relaxed as the meal progressed through soup, roast lamb and vegetables, a pie, and a cheese platter. After eating they retired to the bedroom for more tea. By this time she was comfortable enough to demand, “When are we going to get this show started?”

“Your wish is our command.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The two Saiyans set their cups aside and shifted around so they were sitting on either side of her. Kakarott gently took her teacup while giving her a hot look like she’d never expected to see from her childhood friend. “I promise you, this will be a night you’ll never forget.”

And with that they both leaned in and started licking her neck. That was – oh! – she liked that, Vegeta must have been telling tales. Strong hands wandered, unhurried, over her back and thighs, and that had to be Kakarott’s style, Vegeta had never been so patient … one of the wandering tongues found her earlobe, and analysis went out the window. Somehow they slipped her out of her dress, and then her underwear; she hoped vaguely she wouldn’t find them in pieces in the morning. Now those tongues wandered all over her body, in her navel, at her elbow, They brought their tails in, one on her ankle, one against her ribs, along her spine … their fingers were everywhere, and she could hear their deep purrs. Soon she was gasping and squirming between them; when they both went after her nipples at once, she shuddered. But there was still one problem. “Hey, you still have all your clothes on.”

They propped her at the head of the bed. “You wanted to see how we are together. Well, feast your eyes on this.” And Kakarott grabbed Vegeta by the hair and hauled him into a crushing kiss. _Holy shit. What’s he trying to do, eat him?_ He tilted Vegeta back on the bed as he ravaged his mouth, free hand sliding under his shirt. He broke the kiss to pull the shirt over Vegeta’s head, and then his mouth came down on his chest. Licking, biting, sucking on all that luscious flesh. He was growling. Before Bulma’s eyes he had turned into something primal, something ferocious – but not wild, no, perfectly controlled and measured. Implacable. She could see where Chichi had gotten the avalanche image.

And Vegeta was surely swept away. He had his head rolled back and his eyes half closed, moaning with every brush of Kakarott’s fingers. He was not as careful as his mate, as he literally tore the clothes from Kakarott’s body with hands and ki. They must lose a lot of clothing that way. But the moment he was completely bare, Kakarott caught Vegeta’s hands and pinned them above his head. Vegeta arched up with a howl of pure pleasure. Bulma had never seen him like this, so open; he was almost begging for contact. His pants slid off and he didn’t even react until Kakarott trailed a hand down his thigh. Now both of them were (quite impressively) naked, and Kakarott turned his burning gaze on her.

She was startled at the wave of lust that swept through her. _Fuck me, please!_ Kakarott grinned at her. “Watch.” He rolled Vegeta onto his knees; the smaller Saiyan’s tail curled high against his back and he spread his thighs wider. _He wants this. He really wants this._ She could see the craving on his face. Kakarott leaned over his back; his shaft gleamed with lube although he’d had no chance to apply it. _He’s really going to_ – ! He did. His eyes locked on Bulma the whole time, Kakarott plunged into Vegeta’s body. Vegeta screamed, Kakarott roared, Bulma panted as her body grew even wetter. They were so hot together; she wanted it _now_.

As if reading her mind, Kakarott led Vegeta around until he was on top of her. She looked into the former prince’s eyes; they glowed with pleasure and need, and very little rational thought. He purred as he stared back at her. His white leather collar was still around his throat, a reminder of who was really in control here. Kakarott leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Kiss her.”

Vegeta did as he was ordered, and Bulma forgot what she’d been thinking about. His tongue burned against hers – his teeth nibbled her lip – just when she thought she could stand no more, Kakarott lifted her hips and impaled her on Vegeta’s shaft.

Stars exploded across her vision. Kakarott drew back, pulling Vegeta with him, only to plunge back in. It was her turn to scream. He started thrusting, slow and deep; Vegeta matched his pace. Every stroke hit Bulma’s sweet spot, and in minutes her climax crashed over her. But her partners didn’t stop there. Kakarott suddenly flashed into Super Saiyan three and sped up. Vegeta cried out. His eyes rolled back in his head, he hammered into her over and over, and her climax just kept going and going …

Vegeta tensed and his howls cut off. She felt his seed shoot into her. A few strokes later Kakarott roared and Vegeta’s blissful expression showed that he was coming as well. The blaze of passion faded to a comfortable glow; Bulma lay back exhausted and completely, totally satisfied.

***

She drifted out of sleep to find it was morning. On either side of her, snuggled close like living blankets, lay two warm and silky male bodies. _Mmmm. And they get to do this every day. I think I’m jealous._ Her life might be centered, as Vegeta said, on nuts and bolts, but those wouldn’t keep her company at night. On the other hand, she wasn’t perverted enough to keep up with these two. She sighed; she could just get a dog. Because waking up like this felt _nice._

A furry tail stirred against her hip as her companions began to wake. Kakarott purred and sat up. Vegeta rolled over to look at her. “How are you doing?”

“Great. A little sore.”

“Me too,” he said. “You can have the shower first.”

“And I’ll get breakfast,” Kakarott added as he ushered her into the bathroom. They even had bottles of her favorite soaps. She indulged in a long, hot shower, followed by a breakfast of eggs, salad, herbal tea and rolls. 

“Wow, this really is the royal treatment.”

“Well, this is the King’s house.” Kakarott flicked his tail at her saucily.

She wished that she could purr. “I think I’ll be walking funny for weeks. But you know, even if I do ‘catch’, I wouldn’t mind doing that again some time.”

They looked at each other. Then Vegeta smirked, and Kakarott grinned. “I think … that could be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bulma … you … I … jealous … *waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah* T_T


	8. Pure Evil 4: A New Evil

#### Part 1

I snuggle deeper into Kakarott’s arms, drowsy from our dinner and evening’s entertainment. No chains tonight, no, just a long, leisurely claiming under the summer stars. It’s a trial of endurance, as always: how long can we last before one teases the other into losing control? Today I “won” … though I would hardly call it a loss when he gets a prize like me for it. He nibbles on my ear. “High court day tomorrow.”

“Hn. Hours of tedious formal meetings, endless blather about budgets and policy and if we’re really unlucky, human dignitaties whose egos are too stiff for regular court.”

“Then why do you keep coming?”

“It’s an excuse to spend the day feeling you up.” As he knows perfectly well. Velvet fur wraps around my ankle and a hand strokes my ribs. Close to three years we’ve been together like this. It feels like forever. So much has happened; the return of the Saiyan colony, Kakarott’s accession as King, the restoration of our home planet. The alliance with the humans and Nameks. The rebuilding of our nation.

I purr and press into him. In the past I scoffed at the thought of a safe place, I did not believe it was possible. Yet that is what I have with Kakarott beside me. Kakarott trusts me. That is the one treasure I can not lose and cannot have taken from me, for which I surrendered myself to him and allowed him to claim me. And in the process I scored the best possible mate in the universe.

He rubs his nose through my hair. “I don’t think those people realize I have regular court.”

“Hn. Probably true.” Few of them would consider wandering around talking to people – which is what he means by regular court – proper work for a king. Their loss. “Got all your papers ready?”

“Yeah, and dinner’s in the marinade.”

“I might bring home a dessert to add to that.”

“Are you taking up cooking?”

“No, gambling. Lieutenant Sharise owes me a pie.”

“I hope she can bake then.”

“I wouldn’t have taken the bet if she couldn’t.”

The night insects sing around us as we settle into sleep.

***

Bass thunder shook the nightclub; three tails, two black and one purple, marked the beat, and one set of gold-painted nails joined them. “Do you think our dads are asleep yet?” Gohan wondered.

“It’s past midnight at their place,” Videl said. “I’m just glad Bulma agreed to look after Pan for the night. I haven’t been here in ages.”

“Yeah. She said she needs some practice.” Mirai’s tail flicked. They had all been startled to hear that Bulma was pregnant again, and by Vegeta – but given that Vegeta and Kakarott were as shamelessly attached to each other as always, none of them really wanted to know how _that_ had happened.

“Does she have a name for the kid yet?” asked Shiso, Mirai’s girlfriend.

“Heh. Now Bardock will have two furballs to fuss over.” Videl giggled and sipped from her multi-colored cocktail. Pan already had her great-grandfather totally besotted. What would another baby girl do to him? “Oh, and speaking of grandfathers, does anyone know what Vegeta-jii is doing on Earth right now?”

“You’re not going to believe this one.”

“Try me.”

“He’s visiting Dr. Briefs. To play golf.”

“Golf!?”

“Yep. He’s got the dorky suit and everything.” Three brows furrowed as their owners tried to imagine this, and Mirai smirked at them. “Hey, at least he’s stopped complaining about my lack of royal dignity.”

Gohan waved his tail in amusement. All the Demis had their tails back by now. Chichi had thrown a fit, of course, but it had been short circuited by the spectacle of Goten bouncing off the walls with eagerness to _go to the library_. Bardock, it seemed, had some secret ability to make studying appealing to the little boys he was teaching.

“Did you find anything on those reporters?” Shiso said.

“Reporters?”

“A pack of reporters was sniffing around my place on Vegetasei,” Mirai related. “Shiso pretended she didn’t speak Terran and got rid of them. I found out that they thought my life would make a good prime-time sob story.”

“More like an S.O.B. story. You’re not the only one. Some guy wants to turn the Z fighters’ story into a comic book.”

Mirai snorted. “Next thing you know we’ll be a Saturday morning cartoon.”

***

“Rise and shine, young ones!” Bardock’s roar set birds to flight and stirred his grandsons from sleep. Goten blinked and kicked Trunks in the ribs; Trunks grumbled and sat up. Although it was the crack of dawn Bardock was dressed and ready for action. He was about the only one. Around them, fifty-odd Saiyan warriors were also grumbling in their bedrolls.

“Up with you, you motheaten hairballs!” Bardock shouted. “This isn’t some pansy ornamental unit, we have work to do!” His taking over command of the Saiyan soldiers – well, full-time soldiers – had been both highly necessary and un appreciated by the soldiers themselves. They’d been an embarrassment to their chosen profession; forty years on a starship with nothing to do was no excuse. Hell, he’d been dead all that time, and had he let himself slip? It seemed that old man Vegeta’s attitude had rubbed off on them. The lazy ass. A year later and they were still complaining about sleeping on the ground, but at least they could fight worth half a rat’s ass. “Right, pair up for morning spar! Goten, you’re with me.”

As the Saiyans broke off into pairs, Goten squared off against his grandfather. A spirited kid, powerful, totally fearless, but not long on patience. That could get him killed one of these days. And Bardock was getting more powerful by the day. “Kame-kame-ha!” The ki beam sizzled through the air at him; he blocked it and answered with a punch to the gut. Goten dodged at the last instant and tried to get his arm around Bardock’s throat. Good times. Meanwhile, nine of the soldiers ganged up on Trunks. He was whipping all of them and calling out comments on their technique. “You stick your elbows out too far! That kick was pathetic! Keep your wrists straight! You call that a ki blast?”

Goten accidentally-on-purpose sent a ki attack in their direction, while blocking a series of blows to his own head. Well, wasn’t he clever. He rose higher in the air to try to use the height against Bardock; Bardock simply showed him that it wouldn’t work. They spiraled upwards through the trees, trading blows and ki attacks. He dodged a Solar Flare –

A flash of light, and a different scene appeared before his eyes. Vegeta, at Super Saiyan two, and … someone else, also golden-haired and massively muscled. The location looked like a colony ship. Flash again – a Namek doctor, leaning over a bony Saiyan child. Flash – what was that? It looked kind of like a Tuffle. A mutant one …

Reality returned with a splitting headache. He was lying on the ground and his grandsons were leaning over him. “Grandpa! Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just gimme a second.” He rubbed his temples; his tail coiled close with the pain. Why did these things have to hurt so much? 

“Did you have a vision?” Trunks asked.

“Big time.” He waved away the gathered soldiers. “Change of plans. I need to see the King right away. Goten, Trunks, you’re in charge, continue the mission. I’ll leave after breakfast.” Hopefully by then his head would stop hurting.

#### Part 2: Foresight

High court drags on and on as minor functionaries present their reports. This or that project is proceeding on schedule. Such-and-such a budget projection should be amended due to thus-and-so. Minister A wants a bigger slice of the pie than Minister B. Snore. There’s a small break mid-morning when Sharise shows up to present her pie with full traditional ceremony. She’s even taken the trouble to hunt down the plaited sandsnake to make her full-dress bandolier. But after that it’s right back to lies, damn lies and statistics, not necessarily in that order. I set my ears on record and focus on something that interests me. Namely, Kakarott.

I lean my head on his knee and drink in his scent. One hand is on his ankle, stroking his skin and feeling his blood flow underneath. Kakarott has a lovely pulse. I feel stupid just thinking that, but it’s true. And the fur of his tail against mine, the sound of his voice. He scratches my ears and I purr softly. This is why I really come to these meetings – to slow down, sit still and simply appreciate my mate. I can tell Kakarott is paying me as much attention as the reports, because his tail tip creeps up to trace patterns on my ass. 

After the Saiyan flunkies (walking oxymorons, I sneer. Emphasis on moron), we see not one but two human delegations. The first is a gold-braid-wrapped troupe that informs us that the King of Earth wishes to visit Vegetasei. To which Kakarott responds, “He sent me a note two weeks ago and I already said it was ok.” I smirk at their boggled expressions. It hasn’t occurred to them that two kings might communicate by email like normal people.

The second “delegation” is Mr. Satan. He struts into the courtroom with his medallions sparkling and strikes a pose. “Greetings! O King of the Saiyans!”

“Morning, Mr. Satan. What brings you here?” Kakarott’s tail snakes under my shirt.

“I come to ask you to permit the Saiyan people to study under my stupendous knowledge of martial arts.”

The tailtip quivers, so I know Kakarott is holding back a laugh. “Nothing’s stopping them. Just show up at a free spar and kick a few butts, you’ll get students.”

“But, surely they would only need to hear of my greatness to flock to my school!”

“Saiyans like to see for themselves, you know.” Kakarott runs his fingertips over the back of my neck. His tailtip finds the sensitive spots on my ribs, and my eyes half close in pleasure. Mr. Satan looks uncomfortable. “And if my people think you’re truly powerful, learning won’t be the only thing they’re interested in.”

“I, um, nothing would please me more than the adulation of my students!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A commotion at the doors draws our attention. Someone is arguing with the sentries; it sounds like Bardock. “I have to see the king, you fuckwits! It’s an emergency!”

“Let him in,” Kakarott calls. Bardock stumbles in, growling, obviously fresh from the field; his tail drags alarmingly, and he is rubbing his head with one hand. I immediately sit up.

“Did you have a vision?” Kakarott asks. 

A leather hassock appears and Bardock falls onto it. “Yeah. We have to get old man Vegeta in here. To tell us how many survivor fleets he sent out.”

Both of us shoot bolt upright at that. I shout, “What!?” Kakarott nods and his ki spikes as he sends messages.

“I’ve called for Mirai and Gohan as well; it sounds like they should hear this. You can tell us about it when everyone gets here.” I feel like arguing, but then patience has never been my strong point. Instead I shout for the sentries to fetch our lunch; let them do something useful for a change. Mr. Satan takes the opportunity to continue his spiel: it’s obvious that what he really wants is for Kakarott to endorse him. Kakarott seems to be letting him stay for his entertainment value.

About an hour later my father walks in, wearing his usual armor and cape. Mr. Satan is still talking, one arm extended flat in front of him and the other cocked over his head as he blathers about his imagined prowess. The old man stops short and studies him. “Did the humans send you a court jester, Kakarott?”

“I am no jester!” Mr. Satan turned around and struck another pose. “I am Mr. Satan, champion fighter of all Earth!”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I have defeated countless enemies.”

“They must have died laughing.”

“Quantity over quality won’t get you anywhere,” Bardock chimes in. I open my mouth to add fuel to the fire, but Kakarott claps his hands to get our attention.

“Mr. Satan, I have already told you the best way to attract Saiyan students. You are free to try whatever you wish, and the results are none of my concern. Now if you don’t mind, we have serious business to discuss.” 

“Fear not, I will teach them well!” With one last flourish Mr. Satan marches out; he crosses paths with Gohan and Mirai at the door. They trade a WTF? Look as they walk into the room. The two Demis sit cross-legged on the rug, and Kakarott teleports another hassock for the old man.

“So what’s this emergency that requires my attention?” my father says sarcastically. “Has the General prophesied the main sewer backing up?” Infrastructure Minister is a big step down for him, and he’s still bitter. Kakarott’s tail flicks from side to side.

“Vegeta-jii, how many refugee fleets did you send out?”

The old man stiffens. “Four fleets were sent; this one was the largest. But we lost contact with the others years ago. We assumed they were dead.”

“Bardock, tell us exactly what you saw.”

He tells us of the fight between me and some other person, the starving Saiyan children, the strange Tuffle-like creature. “These things tend to repeat with more detail the closer they get. I got a second round on the way here, with another image: two of our colony ships, approaching each other in deep space.”

“The ships were in groups of at least three,” my father says. “So some of them are dead.”

“But at least one is definitely alive. And our people are stuck in the depths of space, in a possibly damaged ship, while we frolic around down here.” Kakarott plants his elbows on his knees. “This is urgent, especially if the fleets are under threat. We’ll send one of our ships to contact and resupply them. Thoughts?”

“Only the colony ships have enough range and cargo capacity,” Gohan says. “But a full crew is nearly 20% of our adult population. We can’t spare that many.”

“Make it a joint mission, then,” Mirai replies. “According to the vision, the Nameks will be there anyway. Throw in some human engineers and scientists for balance.”

It’s a good idea, but I can’t help but snort at the image. “Why not invite a Kai along, we’ll have the full collection.”

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.” Kakarott scratches his neck for a moment, and then hands down our assignments. I’m going, of course, since I was in the vision. However, Kakarott can’t come with me; with Tuffles possibly on the loose, we must keep the homeworlds well guarded. He assigns Gohan as my second in command. For the rest of the crew, Bardock will chose the Saiyans, Gohan the humans, and Kakarott the Nameks, twenty of each. Plus, possibly, one Kai. My father, much to his disgust, is to select the ship and refit it. “I want this mission off the ground in three weeks at the latest,” Kakarott concludes. Damn, but he’s hot when he’s on a crusade. “Now, I’m going to hop home to put dinner in the oven, and when I come back we’ll work through this in more detail.”

I leer up at him. “I hope you have a lot of food ready.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of _energy_ this evening.” His tail runs up my back one more time and then he’s gone.

“Does it ever occur to you, son, that you spend an excessive amount of time having sex with that man?”

“There’s no such thing as too much sex, especially with Kakarott.” I turn around to ask Mirai about his ki sensor experiments.

#### Part 3: The Ropes

Dinner is nothing more than a fond memory, and the dishes are cleared away. I lie on the couch with my head on Kakarott’s lap as he runs his fingers through my hair; the meal and this treatment has me almost asleep. Almost. Because I have a special treat for him tonight. I look up at him through my lashes: “Kakarott …”

“Yes?” Sweet kami, that voice. Dark, sensuous, hungry. I harden at once.

“I had something to show you.”

“Oh? Let’s see it then.”

I roll off his lap and walk across the room to the fireplace. As I go, I casually run my hands under my tank top and pull it over my head. Then the pants, in four motions: button in front. Button over my tail. Push them off my hips, then step out and kick them aside. Now wearing only my collar, I open the toybox on the mantel and retrieve what I stashed there earlier – a coil of snowy white rope. 

I hit a control with my tail to start the music; it’s slow and meditative, rather than my usual pounding beats. That should make him curious. I stand in the beam of evening light streaming through the windows, which makes my skin glow bronze, and cast a glance at Kakarott. He is leaning forward slightly, his tail tip flicking from side to side. Excellent. I take the end of the rope and loop it into a clove hitch, then slide it onto the base of my tail. I place another about a handspan further on. And another. And another. Now I can reach my collar with the rope; I loop it through and pull my tail close. I take a moment to run my hands down my back to my now-exposed cleft. _Ah, that’s intense._ Then I bind the rest of my tail and tie its tip to the base.

I wrap the rope around my body, waist to shoulder to neck; this part’s mostly for show. And what a show it is. I smirk faintly as I pass the rope around my thigh. The legs are the tricky part: I must wrap the rope in a specific pattern crisscross down my leg. Then up and over my tail, and the same pattern up the other leg, in reverse. And I’m having trouble concentrating. I’m _binding myself._ For Kakarott. Focus; double-check the wrappings, have I aligned them right? Good. I slowly start to pull in the slack.

I fall to my knees as my ankles are pulled to my thighs. I have discovered in practice that in order to tighten evenly and not chafe, the rope must be pulled in at a trickling slow pace. My hands are shaking slightly; I need all of my training discipline to complete this task. Imagine it’s a kata. Every movement precise. The tighter I am bound, the hotter my passion flows.

I run the rope back up to my neck and around my body to make a symmetrical pattern and tuck it through the loops on my tail. Now for the last part. I fold the remaining rope into a series of figure eights, one on top of another. I tie the end off loosely and start working my arms through the loops behind my back. It’s a good thing I can slither like a snake. The first coil fits around my biceps, and the rest spread evenly down my arms to my wrists. Again I pull the slack in, and then close the final knot. Finished. I look over at my audience.

Kakarott is leaning back in his chair, his eyes are wide and he’s _almost_ drooling. He stands up and walks all the way around me, studying me like a work of art. Casually he sheds his clothes. He bends down until our noses are almost touching and whispers, “I should take you right here and now. But that would be too easy.”

A band of black velvet appears in his hand, which he binds over my eyes. Darkness. His hands leave me; I sense him prowling just outside my reach. Without warning his tail grazes over my ribs and I gasp at the touch. A pause; step, step, step, and then fingers ghost down the length of my arm. Another pause, and then a flick of fur on the sole of my foot. I yelp and twist in my bonds. The touches come faster, never more than feather light: fur, skin and – what the hell was that? It feels like metal.

Something brushes across my lips; I flick out my tongue to catch it and am surprised to taste a drop of salt. _Wait, that was his cock!_ Now every time his skin touches me I have to wonder what part of his body it is. The metal is back, a brief flick over my nipple; it’s maddening. I moan and cry out in the darkness. He adds something new to the torture: soft and slightly fuzzy. I flex against the ropes, trying to get the stimulation I crave, but it’s futile. I am at the mercy of his will.

There is a crunching sound, and he presses a piece of peach to my lips; that must be the fuzzy object. He’s holding it between his teeth – his lips brush mine as he passes it to me. A wave of heat fills my body. _More!_ I can hear his purr rumbling around me. Ghostly fingers wrap around my tail and trace it to the end, nails ticking against the knots. But it doesn’t squeeze, and I scream in frustration. He continues his random touches, skin, fur, peach – sometimes passing me a bite – and metal. My shaft aches and pulses with every touch.

Finally he tips me onto my back. I spread my thighs wider in anticipation; he clamps his lips onto mine, and plunges into me with one motion. I scream into his mouth. For once he gives it to me exactly as I like, hard and fast, ramming into my sweet spot with every thrust. My eyes roll back under my blindfold. I don’t beg because there is nothing more that I want; my muscles lock, my veins pulse, my throat closes on my voice and I explode. Kakarott is right behind me.

My awareness returns slowly, lazily. My eyes are still covered, but Kakarott is carefully undoing the ropes; I am lying against his chest, rising and falling with his breath. As he frees my arms I tuck them around him to stroke his velvet skin. This may be the last chance we have to spend “quality time” together in a while, and I want to make the most of it. He loosens the knots along my tail and that goes around his waist too. At last he takes the band from my eyes. I look up at him, glowing and satisfied, and then over at the coffee table. Lying on it are a half-eaten peach and one of our steel shackles. I lay my head on his shoulder. “I’ll never look at peaches the same way.”

#### Part 4: Time to go

Two weeks. That’s how long it takes to get the mission ready to fly. A word from Kakarott and the whole Saiyan nation turns out to help; _Gala_ , the chosen ship, is checked over, scrubbed and refurbished top to bottom, hold packed with fuel and air, engines fine-tuned and ready. Mirai’s next-generation ki sensor is docked to the bow, a free-flying robot built around a sensor crystal as big as I am. Bardock has his pick of crew. The humans and Nameks arrive and settle in: engineers, scientists, healers and even a handful of shapeshifters. And then there’s our token Kai, Ren, a young female clairvoyant. And I, in command of it all for my sins. 

The morning of our departure, I don’t want to climb out of bed. All of my gear is already on the ship, but as long as I wake up in Kakarott’s arms, I’m home. And from tonight I … won’t be. We eat breakfast in silence but with a thousand little touches and glances; I try to memorize the way the light strikes his hair, the feel of his tail fur, the set of his shoulders. Three hours and counting. Kakarott ITs us to a nearby clifftop where we sit and study the view.

“Are you worried about the trip, Vegeta?”

“I do what’s needed. I don’t have to like it.”

“What I thought. Here, I’ll give you something to remember.” He touches his throat. “Taste.”

My breath draws in as I turn towards him. I can count on one hand the times he had offered me this privilege; he prefers to keep it so, because of the powerful effect it has on me. _Kakarott trusts me._ With one flick of my jaws I could tear out his throat before he could stop me. His blood pulses steady under my teeth and I … I am his slave. Within moments my tension disappears. For this treasure I would take anything he gives me, I would do anything he asks of me.

His hand comes up to press my head to him. “Vegeta. Bite.”

A shudder runs through me. Obedience is not a question; my teeth close until I break his skin. Kami. His blood is sweeter than anything I’ve tasted. I feel nothing but its flowing into me, possessing me. Conquering me. I know this sacred honor is mine alone; Kakarott will never trust anyone the way he trusts me. And with that trust he owns me completely. If he declared right now that he wanted me dead, I would bend down and beg for the final blow.

I drink his blood until it stops flowing, and then lie against him for a long time. How long, I don’t bother to count; what matters in this moment is that I’m open to Kakarott, surrounded and penetrated by his power, the deep connection that feeds my pride and my humility. Not that anyone but Kakarott ever gets to see the latter. Gradually the real world fades back in – my throat feels hoarse, and I realize I’ve been purring this whole time. Kakarott conjures up a bottle of water for me. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. I should learn how to do that.”

“It’s not too hard. If you put a spark of your ki into something, you can IT it just like your body.”

“I see.”

“I left a present in your cabin.”

“I left one on your desk.”

He nuzzles the top of my head and says what we’re both thinking. “Time to go.”

He ITs us directly to the landing field. All around us other crewmembers are saying goodbye to their families as well, all yelling and cursing and milling bodies. Kakarott holds me close for a long moment and then kisses me lightly. “Find our people, Vegeta, and come home to me.”

“Count on it.” I step back, turn away and walk into the ship. I make my way up the ramp and through the companionways to the bridge; I can sense Kakarott still standing at the edge of the field. Gohan nods at me from the engineer’s station. “All systems are ready to go, sir.”

“Are all the crew aboard?”

“Yes, sir,” Ren reports from Communications. “All crew are present and accounted for.”

“Seal the hatches.” I fall into the familiar list of orders and cross-checks involved in launching a starship. It’s not so very different from when it was just me, Nappa and Raditz. The engines rumble and we slowly lift into orbit. A last look through the readouts; all is in order. “Helm, lay a course for the first rendezvous.”

“Ready, my lord.”

“Go.” The planet falls away behind us. Kakarott stands watching until we’re out of sensing range.

The plan is simple. We will fly to the last known location of each fleet, and then use the long-range ki sensor to look for life signs. Those coordinates are more than five years old, which gives a large but finite search area. It’s a three-week trip to the first one. I hang around the bridge long enough to make sure everything is working properly, excuse myself for an inscrutable Namek meal in the mess hall, and then return to my cabin.

There is a stack of boxes and parcels on my bunk; I see the old tradition of parting tributes is making a comeback. From my training class, a case of liquor. From Bulma, a capsule equipment kit, and from my father, a book of Saiyan historical sagas. How thoughtful. It might be useful if I suffer from insomnia.

From my sons there is a video screen loaded with hundreds of family pictures. Here’s me, shortly after my arrival on Earth, glaring at the camera held by Mrs. Briefs. Here is Trunks as a toddler, earnestly stalking a squirrel. Kakarott after Buu, tearing up his own headstone. Gohan and Videl in club dress. Everyone. I notice a button marked “stress relief” and press it; a 3D image of Frieza appears. How is this stress relief? I hit a key at random and a huge disembodied fist hits him in the stomach, whereupon he doubles over with an agonized grunt. Much better. I spend several minutes pummeling Frieza before setting the panel aside.

The biggest and last box is from Kakarott. I open it and I’m immediately swamped by a wave of his scent – the box is full of a shaggy mega-bison hide infused with his smell. I lift it to my nose and inhale. Perfect. Also in the box are a pair of leather shackles and a bottle of suspiciously cloudy liquor. A note with them says simply, _to help you sleep._ I open the bottle and taste a drop. He didn’t … yes, he did. His smell, his taste, the feeling of bonds. Perhaps insomnia won’t be a problem.

#### Part 5: The Third Dragon

Kakarott stood watching until the starship left his perception. His mate and his son were flying off into the unknown, and he was left to wonder when they would return; it was a novel sensation for him, since usually he was the one haring off on some half-baked quest. He turned to Bardock standing beside him. “How is the hunt for the Dragonballs going?”

“We have two to go. It’s not like we have to fight anyone over them.” He stared in the direction the ship had gone. “That makes three. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“Yeah.”

“Raditz was five years old. You were five weeks. At least this one knows what he’s getting into.”

“And we’ll keep the planet in one piece for them, right?”

“Right. Catch you later, son.” They parted at the edge of the field, and Kakarott IT’d home to see what kind of present Vegeta had left him.

There were actually two gifts waiting on his desk, the box from Vegeta and a watermelon from Gohan. He cut a wedge with his ki and bit into it as he examined the box. The note on top said simply, “Something to practice and something to relax with.” He took the lid off. Inside lay a leather whip, coiled; that must be the practice. He lifted it out and fingered it. Vegeta in pain was the single most heart-stopping sight he had ever seen, and he could not imagine anything hotter than the way his mate – regularly – offered himself for it; it was a temptation he could never resist. He would be diligent in mastering this technique. The other thing in the box was an album. He flipped it open at random and nearly fell out of his chair. It was full of pictures. Of Vegeta. And what pictures they were.

Here was Vegeta lying on his side, silhouetted against a sunset. Crouching on his knees, eyes slyly aside as he licked his index finger. Hiding behind a bush so that only his hair and tail showed, with the caption “guess who.” In the aftermath of a spar, panting and bloody, glaring into the camera with unbowed ferocity. Gods, if he could dive into the picture and ravish him then and there. He closed the book with a chuckle. 

***

Seven golden Dragonballs lay on the table in front of Kakarott. They were no larger than his fist, smaller than either the Earth or Namek balls, which probably meant that they were weaker than both. Around him stood Bardock, Trunks and Goten who had worked so hard to find them; Mirai and Vegeta-jii; and various clan chiefs and guildmasters. Bulma was getting late into her pregnancy and couldn’t attend, but Piccolo had shown up with a camera and some measuring devices. Kakarott thought that was overly optimistic of him.

He cried out the invocation; the last syllable shuddered in the air and the sky turned dark. A massive scaled form appeared above them. It looked much like Shenron or Porunga, snaky and green – but its horns were much shorter, and where Shenron had a modest teal fringe down its neck, this dragon had a veritable mane, its eyes nearly hidden by long straw-gold bangs. With scarlet tips. _Curled._

“Greetings, mortals! I am Koshubu, your friendly neighborhood eternal dragon!” It looked down at its foot, which had crushed the table that held the Dragonballs. “Oops. Aim needs a little work, there.”

Kakarott blinked. “You’re not quite what I expected from a dragon.”

“Oh, you mean those two old stick-in-the-muds?” Koshubu laughed. “They forgot how to have a good time aeons ago. Now did you have a wish or did you summon me just to admire my figure?”

“Actually, we’d like to know your nature.”

“My nature? I am the Dragon Koshubu, eighteen thousand years old, philatelist, wrestler and five time winner of Dragon Magazine’s sexiest scales award.” It struck a pose and flicked its bangs with a foreclaw. “Old Por-poise was surprised when I won this gig, but I’m more than just a pretty face; the other candidates didn’t stand a chance. Hya!” Koshubu writhed in what was obviously a Dragon-style wrestling throw; the impact caused an earthquake that knocked all the lesser beings off their feet. “Sorry. Any other questions?”

Kakarott dusted himself off. “How many wishes do we get, and what are the restrictions?”

“Ah, yes. Currently it’s one wish per year. Restrictions, the usual, I can’t kill anyone, I can’t do anything to a person without their consent, and I can’t revive someone who died of natural causes. Not that that’s a big problem around here. I can revive one person per wish, within ten years of death, no matter where they died, and they appear here. Oh, and one new rule: you can’t make a wish that affects yourself.”

As Kakarott thought about that, Goten called out, “Who’s your Guardian?”

“I haven’t got just one; they tend to die at inconvenient times. As long as there’s a Saiyan alive in the universe I’ll exist, and the more Saiyans there are, the stronger I get. This is fun, it’s like a press conference! Next question!”

“How many Saiyans are there right now?” Bardock called.

“One thousand one hundred and sixty-three. Next! You, Namek-dude.”

“What are your measurements?”

Half the Saiyan contingent burst into giggles. Koshubu just smirked. “Now, now, I never tell anyone that until the third date.” The Dragon brought its head down to rake Piccolo with one blood-red eye: “Actually, you’re pretty cute for a mortal.”

Piccolo started backing away slowly, and Kakarott fought to keep a straight face. Mirai said, “Playing hard to get?” The Namek just spluttered.

“So, is anyone going to make a wish?”

Kakarott looked over at Bardock, Goten and Trunks. “You three collected them.” They put their heads together briefly and then Trunks announced,

“I wish for a barrel of chocolate ice cream!”

Koshubu snapped its fingers and a barrel popped into existence. “First wish, complete! Catch you later.” It blew a kiss at Piccolo as it disappeared. The sky returned to normal; the Dragonballs leapt into the air, and Goten pounced on the four-star ball to keep it from escaping. Following family tradition? The boys formed leaves into cones and started handing out the ice cream. Piccolo, looking rather pale, sat on a rock muttering, “Please tell me it was joking.” Kakarott and Bardock stood off to one side.

“You couldn’t wish to revive one of your teammates.”

“I wouldn’t have anyway. Maybe it’s better to let the past be. I couldn’t find them in Hell.”

“Ah.” Kakarott watched the chief of the metallurgy guild gravely accept a serving of ice cream from Goten. “Koshubu isn’t anything like the other Dragons. But I kind of like him.”

“Yeah. And now we’ve got a bit more info for our questers.”

“True. Come on, lets get some ice cream.”

#### Part 6: Changes

The outbound journey is smooth, safe, and interminable. Routine ship’s maintenance, day after day; within a week the crew has their jobs well in hand and nothing to occupy them. Not even a pirate attack or subspace anomaly to break up the monotony. I’m not in much better case, having nothing to do but eat, sleep, train, and stamp on flaring tempers caused by boredom. All that stress demands some outlet; I’ve had to ration the bubble wrap.

Being back on a starship is weird. I keep expecting Raditz to come around the next corner. Or Nappa. Or even worse, Zarbon. Ick. I step tighter and my tail clenches around my waist. I become close-mouthed and surly even towards people I like. I know Gohan is worried, but he’s used to this; it’s how I was before – before Kakarott, before Earth. I hate it. Every night I wrap myself in my fur blanket and bury my nose in it, shuddering as the built-up tension leaves me, but even so my dreams are unsettled. Often I start awake in the middle of the night as if I had sensed an intruder, although no one is there. It’s a relief when we finally reach the first rendezvous point.

At last, something to do. Just for the heck of it I order the ship to battle stations while we launch the sensor drone. Its pickup is directional to maximize its range; an agonizing ten minutes trickle by as it flies in a circle around the ship. And then, a point of light appears on the display. Success! The drone follows its program and changes heading to close in on the contact. “Take us after the drone,” I tell the helmsman.

“Yes, my lord.”

They are well within the search radius, so we’re in visual range in a couple of hours. I study the display: two colony ships where there should be three, and one is badly damaged and empty. What happened here? The other ship appears to be intact; it powers up weapons as we draw alongside. Ah, Saiyans. Before any accidents can happen, Ren hails them using my father’s codes, and a grizzled Saiyan female appears on screen.

“Prince Vegeta.” She looks taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story short, Frieza is dead, Vegetasei is restored and I’m playing fetch. What’s your status, and where’s your other ship?”

She blinks, changes mental gears. “Ah … six years ago, the _Pippin_ had a catastrophic engine failure and exploded with no survivors. The _Red Prince_ was damaged in the blast and half its inhabitants killed. We moved all the survivors here to the _Goldspur_ and salvaged what we could, but our long-range comm units were fried. What of the other fleets? Is the king your father alive?”

Damn it, I am not a history teacher. “I’ll have my second send you the information. My job here is to get your ship turned around for home.”

***

Three very busy days later our ships part ways again. The _Goldspur,_ refueled, resupplied and with a repaired comm set, is on course for Vegetasei. Our own _Gala_ heads off toward the next rendezvous, with the addition of thirty more Saiyans from the overcrowded colony ship; I at last have found something to do in bringing their training up to modern standards. What’s more, now that we have something to report, Ren configures our comm for long-distance transmission to beam the news back home – along with the much larger volume of personal messages. I try not to obsess over that as I stand in front of my new class.

“Watch closely, grasshoppers. This is what you can achieve with proper training.” I throw out my chest and roar as I go gold. And then, just because I can, I use a ki blast to neatly knock them over in one blow. I wait with my arms crossed for them to stand up.

“And you’re not the king?” one of them exclaims.

“No. My mate is far stronger than this.” Dropped jaws all around. I go right on with, “You slackers have a long way to go before I call you competent. So, let’s see what you’ve got. Get into pairs.” I sense Gohan moving towards me, fast – he must be pelting down the halls, but he drops to a walk to make a dignified entrance. I tilt an eyebrow at him; he knows I hate to have my training interrupted.

“Vegeta, a huge-ass personal message just came in for you from Dad.” My tail bristles with interest; he grins. “I’ll take over here if you like.”

I drop my transformation. “Don’t teach them any bad habits.” I march towards the door – I have to stop myself from running out. One of the trainees shouts after me, “You mean we’re supposed to train under this half-blood?”

“Hn. That’s prince half-blood to you.”

“Would you prefer me as a blond?” Gohan asks archly. The door closes behind me but I feel him ascend; I suspect he’s just punched out the questioner. Good thing for them that his human blood makes him so even-tempered. _Kakarott. Message._ I take two steps down the corridor, lose patience, and IT straight to my cabin. Kakarott. The message on my terminal is huge, nearly an hour long; it is titled _news and stress relief_ … stress relief? I call the mess hall to send me a tray. After it arrives, I lock the door and press play. 

He appears on my wall screen. Sleek, glowing, relaxed. He’s sprawled on our sofa at home with his whole body open to my view; still clothed, damn the luck, though the look in his eyes says that will change. His tail slithers over the cushions in a way that makes my own curl in response.

“Vegeta.” Sparks shoot up my spine at his voice. “My evenings are boring without you here. I’ve been practicing with your gift, and I’ll let you imagine what I have waiting for when you come home.” Three sentences and my brain is already melting. Can I survive this? Do I want to? His hand goes to the back of his neck, scratching, half stroking; I hiss. “I thought I’d give you a personal update on the news from home. We finally managed to summon the Vegetasei Dragon, and you are not going to believe …”

He continues to talk about the Dragon, about Bulma’s pregnancy, my old man’s newfound taste for golf, the weather, a dozen other topics. I am only half listening to his words. My dinner sits forgotten on the desk; I squirm on my bunk, all the fur on my tail fluffed out. If I close my eyes, I can imagine him sitting right next to me. Teasing me. I am rock hard just from the sound of his voice on such innocent topics. What better proof of his power over me?

“Vegeta!” I snap around to look at the screen. The scene has changed: Kakarott is smirking as though he knows exactly how I reacted, and he’s shifted into a pose leaning on one hand with a knee raised. He also seems to have been sparring; his top is ripped in a dozen places and there are streaks of blood on his face. My mouth goes dry. “Pay special attention to this part, Vegeta. Here’s something just for you.”

I nod at the screen. Stupid – he can’t see me. One of his fingers traces a line from his throat to his sash. “I like those pictures you left me, Vegeta, but they’re not as vocal as you are.” He starts to pull up his shirt; I lean towards him and almost fall off my bunk. “I want to hear you. From that first hiss when I pierce your defenses to your scream when I finally take you. I hunger for your beauty.” He peels his shirt over his head, revealing expanses of bronzed muscles. “I hunger for your power. I can look in the mirror and count the marks you put on me.” He traces one faint line across his ribs. “This one is from the first time we fought on Earth. This one is from the training before Cell…” He points out half a dozen more scars. I absently lick a fleck of drool from my lips.

“And this,” he points to a mark on his throat, “This is the blood that I gave to you. You are the only one strong enough to keep this trust. I haven’t had you in three weeks, Vegeta. I’m burning.” He caresses the bulge in his pants. My breath comes in gasps; I kick my clothes off as the last shred of self-control deserts me. I don’t need it; even through a recorded image, Kakarott is in full control of me. He strips off his pants with a mind-bending roll of his hips. He strokes his darkened shaft. “This is for you, Vegeta. Which end do you want it in?”

I … I don’t know. Either, both, take every orifice on my body – hell, make a few new ones just for variety. I am this close to pouncing on the screen, but I don’t want to take the chance of breaking it. My tail lashes with a mind of its own. Kakarott winks as he squeezes his meat; he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on me. His tail flicks. “Finger yourself, Vegeta.”

_Yes._ I lick two fingers and plunge them into my body. The howl that bursts from my lungs contains all my frustration, all my pent-up passion. If only Kakarott could hear that sound, he’d be on me in an instant. “Watch me, Vegeta.” He thrusts slowly into his fist. “Feel me sliding into you. Submit yourself to my lust.” _Oh. Yes._ My eyes are glued to his every move, and my fingers slide in rhythm with his. For a few moments it’s all right; Kakarott is with me, his pleasure is my pleasure. Three, four, five thrusts and his voice rises to a roar; his seed shoots out with enough force to arch past his feet. The sight sends me over the edge with him.

I collapse onto the bunk. After a minute Kakarott speaks again. “I feel better now. If this is as hard for you as it is for me, you must be going crazy over there. If it gets to be too much, remember that trip we went on together, and how I kept my chains on you. I miss you, Vegeta. Come home as soon as you can.” The screen fades to black and he’s gone.

#### Part 7: King vs King

The visit by the King of Earth was a welcome distraction for Kakarott. Without Vegeta around he was … bored. Not just sexually frustrated but actually bored – no one else he knew could be as intriguing, as surprising, or as creative as his mate. Oh, he had things to do, visiting his family, training, making the planet run smoothly, practicing with a certain new weapon; but it wasn’t as enjoyable without Vegeta adding his own unique spice to things. Truth to tell, there hadn’t been a day in the last twenty years that Vegeta hadn’t been on Kakarott’s mind. He’d wanted the prince from the first time he laid eyes on him – on his own terms, of course, and after Frieza that became possible. He actually intended to claim Vegeta right after he returned to Earth, and he would have done it if Mirai hadn’t interrupted. As things stood, he had taken a little longer to reach his goal.

And not a moment too soon. The Goku persona had long outlived its usefulness and stability; he, Kakarott, was tired of acting like a baby just so he wouldn’t scare the pants off his friends. Vegeta was the only person he was certain would prefer the real him to the pose. And as he’d expected, joining with Vegeta was a perfect excuse to “grow up” without the Z fighters suspecting insanity or alien mind control; the further developments, up to and including becoming king of his species, were just icing on the cake.

He spotted the sparring ground below him and started to descend towards it. He was a bit late; both the Earth and Saiyan contingents had already assembled there. On one side, Vegeta-jii, Mirai and the fast-track training group. On the other, the King of Earth, Piccolo and Mr. Satan. He landed in their midst with a thud. “Good morning.”

“You’re late,” Mirai said.

“I know. I was helping a little kid find his mother.”

Mr. Satan guffawed, apparently thinking he was joking. “The things a hero does for his people!”

“Is the boy all right?” the King of Earth asked.

“Yes, he’s fine, Ilya. How are things on Earth?”

“Calmer. The ox-king is holding the fort; he’s settled down considerably since Videl brought his great-granddaughter around to visit. It seems your ex-wife had been telling tales.”

Kakarott shook his head. “Poor Chichi. And how about you, Mr. Satan?”

“Uh … I have not found any Saiyans willing to study with me! I can only conclude that my techniques are so magnificent they do not feel worthy to learn them!” The Saiyans who understood Terran burst into laughter. Mirai snickered under his breath; Piccolo, standing behind the humans, made the “loser” sign on his forehead. Mr. Satan looked pained. This was probably not the first time that Saiyans had laughed in his face for his bragging; Kakarott was tempted, but his manners held it in check. He turned to the Saiyan side of the group. 

“What do you say we get this show started?”

It was a show, an exhibition match put on by this training group to show off Saiyan martial skill to their allies. Man to man, tag team, group. As they fought, the conversation on the viewers’ stand went on. Vegeta-jii was being his usual charming self:

“Are you sure that blue-haired thing is a human?”

Kakarott nodded. “Watch out, though – those looks mean he’s a shapeshifter.”

“A what?”

Ilya turned to face them. “It’s a fairly common ability among humans, and we always partly stick in the first form we change to. There was one boy at school who tried to change into his family’s goldfish; he could breathe underwater without changing.”

“Are you serious?”

“Indeed. He was captain of the swim team.” Suddenly, the air above the audience shimmered; Ilya, followed by everyone else, tilted his head up to look. The shimmer thickened, and turned into an image of the Dragon Koshubu.

“Hi, there, kings! Mind if I join you?” His form drifted down until it was floating just above the ground. It winked at Piccolo. “Hey, cutie. Wanna get a drink later?”

As Piccolo edged to the other side of the platform, Kakarott said, “I’m guessing that’s a projection of some kind. Can the other two do that?”

“Sure, but they object to ‘associating with the masses.’ Ha! It’s not my fault they’ve forgotten how to have a social life. I saw this little show going on and just had to drop by.”

“Watching? Does that mean you’re doing the Guardian’s observing job?” Mirai asked.

“Yeah, for now. Sometime I’ll train a Saiyan to do it for me, but there’s no rush.” The Dragon looked out at the field, where one warrior had just kicked his opponent in the chin. “Oh, nice one!”

Meanwhile, Vegeta-jii was studying the King of Earth like some creature that crawled out of his sink drain. “Shapeshifting. An unusual ability, but what is it good for? With that over-inflated jester,” he nodded at Mr. Satan, “as the best your planet has to offer, it can’t be very powerful.”

Mr. Satan noticed the gesture and posed. “Any intelligent person can see our human might! The Saiyans will not usurp our place!” Usurp?

“Calm down, Hercule. As for power, I didn’t get this job for my looks.” Ilya waved at the sparring field. “In fact, I daresay I’d like to take a turn at that myself.”

“You?” Vegeta-jii snorted. “A pudgy furball like you could never match a Saiyan warrior’s power.”

“My dear sir, a shapeshifter does not rely on physical strength.”

Now that sounded like a challenge. “This I’ve got to see for myself,” Kakarott said. “I’ll take you on.”

“Excellent! Shall we say five minutes, no lethal attacks?”

“Sounds good to me.” Kakarott waved the referee over to explain what he wanted. The fighters murmured as the two kings stepped onto the field; there were a few titters at the King of Earth’s rotund appearance, but they died away when he shapeshifted into a rhinoceros. He snorted and pawed the ground.

The referee gave the signal and they charged towards each other. Kakarott grinned. He often hunted animals this size; an intelligent rhino was just the sort of challenge he craved. But, just before his first blow landed, the rhinoceros vanished. _What the?_ He whirled, trying to follow Ilya’s ki. There he was! He had taken the form of a swallow. Kakarott started to laugh. _He faked me out! He doesn’t mean to use power techniques at all; if I can’t hit him, I can’t win._ He guessed that as soon as Ilya saw an opening he would dart inside his reach and turn into a tiger or something.

He rose into the air in pursuit. Come to think of it, Ilya’s ki was running quite high for a human, and he hadn’t been wearing a gravity belt earlier either. He pounced – even the airspeed of an unladen swallow was no match for him, and his fingers closed gently around the feathered body. But Ilya changed again, and Kakarott was suddenly holding a spitting cobra. 

“Shit!” He hurled the snake away as hard as he could. It was pure reflex, he knew that Ilya wouldn’t really poison him, but that move was a shock. The King of Earth changed back into a bird form and hovered for a moment; then he went on the attack. 

Now Kakarott realized just how dangerous a shapeshifter could be. Ilya didn’t have to hit a vital spot – all he needed was a touch, anywhere, long enough to bite or sting. Kakarott struck wildly as Ilya came into his range. The little bird dodged by a hair; Ilya, too, could not risk having a blow land. He flitted back out of Kakarott’s reach. Stalemate. Of course they didn’t leave it at that, and they danced around the edges of each other’s ranges, waiting for the other to make a mistake. At the end of five minutes neither of them had scored a hit.

Kakarott dropped to the ground, panting. “Damn, Ilya, I had no idea you were so fast.”

“I don’t generally parade it around. Element of surprise and all that.” The King of Earth dusted off his jacket after returning to his base form. “That should take care of the questions about human ability.”

“And all that time I spent at the lookout and never thought to ask Karin for a match.”

“I’m sure he’s more skilled than I am. I say, Hercule, are you all right?”

Mr. Satan’s expression looked oddly frozen; it seemed he hadn’t known about Ilya’s abilities either. “Uh, yes, I’m happy to see this support for the Humans’ reputation.” 

“Oh, he’s just jealous because everyone’s looking at you,” Koshubu put in. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I still think you’re built. Wanna join me and the green one later? It’s more fun with three, you know.” Mr. Satan joined Piccolo in hastily fleeing the scene.

***

Mr. Satan: I’m … I’m not the strongest human … :: sits rocking in the corner ::  
Vegeta-jii: Somehow that’s a great relief. Jester.  
Karin: You didn’t really think they’d leave guarding the senzu to a plain old talking cat, do you?

#### Part 8: Negi and nightmares

I drop my tray onto the mess hall table and survey the crowd. While I detest eating in the middle of a pack, it lets me keep track of gossip and enhance my reputation; the crew takes the fact that I stand up to eat as a sign of toughness. Only Gohan understands what I’m really doing. _Stand or kneel, do not sit. Keep your hands behind your back. Don’t touch your tail. Don’t touch your knees together. Don’t lick or suck anything_. These are the rules which Kakarott imposed on me. And they are helping; now that I can feel his presence in my mind at every moment, my tail once more swings (untouched) behind me, and my smirk comes easily. I feel relaxed.

At least when no one is bothering me, that is. Right on cue, another tray clatters down across from me. “Good evening, my lord. My name is Negi.” I know that. She has said it every time she speaks to me, at least twice a day since she joined us from the _Goldspur._ I ignore her; if I don’t look directly at it, it can’t destroy my brain. “I never imagined a warrior could be as powerful as you. You’re stupendous! No one can stand against you.” She can’t even come up with original flattery. “No king could ever keep you in his grasp. And he’s not here now – you must be eager to exercise your power. There are so many here who would flock to your name.” So, she expects me to cheat on my mate, the most powerful mortal in the universe, with some third-rate airhead? I don’t think so.

Flatter, insinuate, lather, rinse, repeat. I go back to ignoring her. The meal tonight is baked ribs; I recall the last time I ate baked ribs on a spaceship. When Kakarott showed me just how he trusts me. For that memory I haven’t licked my fingers eating ribs since then. And my pants are always a little tight afterwards … once Kakarott noticed and licked my fingers clean for me, and then made me lick his in return. I smirk, then scowl. Five weeks. It’s been five weeks since I last felt his fingers, touched his lips.

I wipe my fingers on a napkin and walk out of the mess hall, leaving my tray on the table – rank does have some privileges. A new development – the chattering female follows me. Unbelievable as it may seem, she is even more annoying than pre-Cell Goku. This counts as a wonder of the natural world, since that Goku was the result (so he has told me) of Kakarott deliberately trying to infuriate me into ascending. What’s more, it worked. At _this_ rate, I might even cross over to level three. She doesn’t even have a sexy voice – not like _him_. An imperceptible shiver runs down my spine. I should choose some music and start rehearsing new dances. Make myself so attractive that when I return he has no thoughts other than pounding me through the floor.

Here in the halls it’s harder to ignore the female’s chattering. “Have you ever considered what kind of person would need to keep you under his heel? He’s obviously insecure about his power! I don’t know what he’s holding over your head, but if you just confront him you can be free of him forever!” I’m about to strike her for the insult to my mate, when she comes out with, “Don’t you realize he only keeps you subordinate because he doesn’t trust you?”

I can’t help it – I laugh in her face. “You are an idiot, woman.” She stands still in shock; I keep right on walking.

***

I’m dreaming. A very pleasant dream, because warm hands are stroking my skin, nape to knee, leaving me limp and tingling in their wake. I feel like the aftermath of really good sex; too bad I seem to have missed the main event. There is a warm body at my back, and I turn and look up – 

\-- Into the face of a total stranger. I wake up with a start. What the fuck was that? Damn dreams. I don’t even remember what the dream person looked like, so he can’t have been amazingly sexy either. The separation must getting to me; either I have contracted an exotic brain disease due to lack of sex, or I subconsciously don’t trust myself to stay faithful to Kakarott this far away from him. No matter; I’ll show my pathetic subconscious who’s boss.

***

Seven weeks. The second rendezvous goes suspiciously smoothly: the fleet is intact and their communications are fully functional; we actually find them on course for Earth, following one of my old man’s last messages. They’ve been running silent due to some run-ins with pirates. Since they’re not in any pressing danger, we point them home, trade a few crew members and continue on our way. And Negi still hasn’t shut up.

The sex-with-a-total-stranger thing becomes a recurring dream. It gets longer with each repetition, and though I can never remember the faces I’m sure they’re different each time; once I’m positive it was Mr. Satan. I swear, if Ren is messing with my head I’ll mash her into the bulkhead, Kai or no Kai. I am trying to figure out how to find out without asking her when Gohan buzzes my door. 

“Come in, boy.” He enters, sits down and wisely doesn’t comment on my appearance. “What do you want?”

“I have an idea about letting the crew get to know each other without landing half of them in sickbay.”

“So? It’s the Saiyan way to fight for dominance.”

“Not if we hold a dance instead. You know as well as I that we’re going to meet Brolli at the third rendezvous and we can’t afford the medical supplies for all this unnecessary brawling.”

“Your humanity is showing.”

“So sue me. You know I have a point. Besides, we could tape it and send it home, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll consider it.” But he’s sold me with his last point. _Payback, Kakarott!_ I make the announcement that same night.

The main training hall is transformed into a dance floor by the addition of some colored lights and banners. Ren is managing the sound system; I trust she won’t do anything too strange with it. I am the last one to arrive, and the music is already thundering when I walk in. Conversation stops, and all eyes turn towards me; they know I’m sexy and they know they can’t have me. Instead of my training suit I’m wearing skintight jeans, a flowing silk shirt with Kakarott’s leather shackles at the cuffs, my high-heeled sandals and, of course, my collar. 

They sweep deep bows to me as I walk to my seat. Gohan is already in the chair beside it, wearing an outfit made entirely of black vinyl. With buckles. I would wonder why he brought such clothing on a deep-space mission, but I’m guilty of the same lack of logic, and a good thing too. I stretch out next to him. “Let’s get this show started. Hands off, Gohan.”

He blinks and stops ogling me. “As if. Videl would kick my ass.”

“So would your father.” I need a few songs to get in the mood, so I let the crew dance first; the insufferable Negi is in the lead of every number. I contemplate locking her in a closet for the rest of the trip.

After twenty minutes I’ve lost my workday tension – Kakarott does it for me in twenty seconds, usually. I step out onto the dance floor and the crew falls back, leaving a clear space all around me. Ren nods that she’s cued up my selected music. “People. You know this is being recorded and sent home. So this one’s for the King.”

#### Part 9: Kakarott’s day out

He sent the recording to the big screen and hit play. The opening chords of a song whispered; Vegeta appeared, standing in a narrow beam of light on a bare metal floor, his tail poised behind him. Kakarott licked his lips. He hadn’t seen Vegeta in seven weeks – and he’d _never_ seen those pants. Skin-tight pants. Hip-hugging pants. He knew Vegeta had brought them along just for an opportunity like this. _Damn, I want to be there to peel those off him._ To feel the rough cloth on one side and silken skin on the other. His fingers clenched around the imagined sensation.

His mate’s shirt was loose and opaque, but so thin that it clung to every curve and muscle. It was just short enough at the waist that any movement revealed a glimpse of golden flesh. Kakarott was sure he was going to spring a nosebleed right there. And the cuffs … and the collar … and those magnificent shoes, the ones that brought out the curves of his heel and ankle – 

Vegeta started to move, and Kakarott forgot what he was thinking about. His mate rocked from side to side, under the beat as usual, a gentle movement at first; he tucked his chin against his shoulder demurely as he began. Gradually his motions increased. He ground his hips against an invisible surface, and his head fell back. He danced with his hands together above his head as if they were chained there, his tail hooked around them, leaving his writhing buttocks exposed; Kakarott knew exactly what he was begging for. _I want to jump through the screen and take him right in front of all those people in the background. Watch their faces go green with envy._ His pants felt tight.

Vegeta turned slowly in the beam of light to show off his best angles – which was all of them. The grind that he did was a full body action. First the ankles twisted, and the knees dipped; then the hips swung. His back arched. His shoulders rolled, his head tilted, his wrists flexed … all at once, at a torturous pace, and then the whole process repeated itself from a different vantage. Kakarott was going to lose his mind very soon.

One hand came down to fondle Vegeta’s chest, under his shirt, as he continued his twisting, slithering dance. His shirt lifted slightly; a teasing band of skin appeared. Kakarott could clearly imagine what those hidden fingers were doing. He licked his lips. Was it just him, or had the bulge in Vegeta’s pants gotten bigger? Such an exhibitionist – he knew Vegeta was getting off on all those people watching him offer himself to his mate.

The music reached a crescendo and Vegeta suddenly went gold. His other hand came down to caress his chest, this time through the neckline of the shirt, while his tail still swayed tall behind him. Somehow – Kakarott wasn’t paying attention – his shirt buttons came undone; his hands roamed his torso in time with his gyrations. _I want him. Now._ Kakarott’s flesh demanded attention and he thrust his hand carelessly into his pants. Vegeta was close to the edge as well; his eyes half-closed, a tremor flowing up his tail – now. He didn’t miss a beat. A slight tensing of his jaw was the only sign that he’d just come. Hard. Kakarott’s hand clenched as his own body followed.

He almost missed the end of Vegeta’s dance while he recovered. Vegeta returned to his original position, hands clasped above his head – not incidentally showing off his bare, flushed pecs – and then the screen went dark. Kakarott chuckled. He pulled his hand out and licked it clean. He would have to step up training his whip so he could give Vegeta a proper reward when he returned. Vegeta, dancing, moving for his pleasure. Vegeta, transfigured by pain into the most alluring creature in the universe, crying out to him blindly: _yes. Take me. More …_

_… Master._ He’d almost stopped in his tracks the first time, for that was one word he’d never expected to hear from Vegeta’s lips. He grinned. Though his mate never remembered what he said in the throes of passion, it was pleasing that he thought of Kakarott that way. _And wouldn’t my so-pure friends pitch a fit if they knew that._ He heaved himself off the couch towards the shower. He did have things to do today; it was time to pay a visit to the army, and thanks to the time difference, it would be about dawn at Bardock’s camp when he got there.

He ITed into the midst of a grove of slumbering soldiers. Bardock was the only one awake; he was crouching by the campfire, coaxing it back to life. He looked up as Kakarott appeared and waved him over.

“Fond of their blankets, are they?” Kakarott said.

“I’m working on it.” The only ones who woke up at Kakarott’s arrival were Trunks and Goten; they leapt from their shared bedroll silent as cats and clambered up on his shoulders. Bardock gestured for them to stay quiet. “Why don’t you two go catch us some breakfast.”

The boys slipped away. Kakarott studied his father; “I know that look. What prank are you planning to pull on these poor soldiers?”

“You are. You do your hair club for Saiyans thing to get them up, then I threaten them with an asskicking.”

“You’re on.” Kakarott planted his feet and burst into level three. Roaring. As expected this finally roused the men from their beds; as they scrambled around half-dressed, Bardock added to the confusion by bellowing, “Fall in for inspection! Inspection in five!” In this, at least, the soldiers were efficient. Five minutes later they were lined up in a neat block, and when Bardock yelled “Down!” they all knelt before their king.

Kakarott looked them over. “I guess you do look respectable once you’re awake. Next thing I know I’ll hear you were all ambushed by a herd of dinosaurs or something. Trust me, if anyone stays asleep the next time I drop in, you’ll get a very personal wakeup call.” Vegeta should really be the one doing this; he was a much better taunter than Kakarott. Still, the little speech had done its job – the soldiers glowered up at him with a mix of guilt and resentment, stung by the prospect of a royal boot to the gut in full view of their more alert comrades. He nodded at Bardock.

“Right! Stand up, meatheads, time for breakfast.” A moment later the boys tumbled back into camp carrying string bags full of fish. The soldiers spread out to catch their own breakfasts, or fell on the leftover megabison carcass from last night. Kakarott sat cross-legged by the fire; Bardock offered him tea and poured coffee for himself. “People talk a lot of smack about Earth, but a planet that produces a drink like this can’t be all bad.”

“It’s nasty.”

“Exactly my point.” The boys sliced up the fish and served it raw, with twigs as chopsticks. Kakarott dug in. Sure, he loved the subtle interplay of flavors that came with formal cooking, but there was nothing quite like the clear taste of fresh-caught game.

“Have you had any more visions lately?” he asked.

“Not to speak of. Just the same stuff over again, with more detail. I can narrow down that the Tuffle-looking thing appears on Vegtasei, not one of the other Alliance worlds.”

“That’s something, at least.” The scholars had turned the surviving archives inside out, searching for information about the Tuffles, but Kakarott had fought enough genetic experiments to know that this one would have most of their weaknesses edited out. What a pain in the ass. A faint ki in the distance tugged at his perception. Goten pointed at it. 

“Hey, Dad, isn’t that Mr. Satan? What’s he doing here?”

“How about you two go and find out.”

The boys darted off again. Kakarott went on eating. He could just hear some of the things being said:

“I am the Champion of Earth! I will prove to everyone my true abilities!”

And then, a minute later: “Fu-sion-fu-sion-ha!” As he ate the last of his fish, Mr. Satan streaked by overhead, obviously not under his own power, with Gotenks in hot pursuit.

“You break him, you fix him,” Kakarott called up.

#### Part 10: Dreaming

Soft hands run up and down my back, making me purr. I am hot and eager; I press back against the muscled body behind me, the warm breath on my neck. My tail curls up over my back. Deft fingers ruffle the fur and then drop lower to prepare me. Sparks spiral slowly upward from the base of my spine; I moan, squirm, and glance over my shoulder – 

– At the face of a total stranger. I gasp out of sheer shock, then punch him in the face. _How dare he!_ He tumbles to the floor; I ignore him, don’t bother looking for my clothes or the door, just blast a hole in the wall and escape. I hover naked in midair, glaring down at the house. How dare he touch me like that? How dare I _let_ him touch me like that? I gather my ki and destroy the house in a burst of flame; I have not felt such rage since Cell killed my son, but I can’t strike the true source of my anger. _Kakarott_ … how could I _do_ that?

My fists clench. I thought I was stronger than this. Better than this. A little voice inside me is screaming, _run, run and hide, you can’t face him like this, you can’t parade your betrayal in front of him_ – No. I grind that cowardly spark under the heel of my will. I do not give up what’s mine without a fight. My race. My family. My honor. My mate. _But what if he beats you?_ That thought is so unlike me that I snort in disgust. First a traitor, then a coward as well; I want to beat myself for this, but greater injury has first claim. It is Kakarott’s right to decide my fate.

I feel for his ki and launch myself through the air. The landscape blurs past me; I fall panting onto our porch, and stumble inside. Kakarott is sitting on the couch working on some piece of wood carving, but he sets it aside when he sees me. I am sure he can feel my inward-turning rage. I collapse on my knees before him and grind out, “Punish me, Kakarott.” 

“Tell me why.”

Yes. I must confess to him. Staring at his feet I pour out everything, every detail I remember. With anyone else, I would not dream of saying these things; with him, I cannot conceive of withholding it. I know what a fiery temper I have, but I’ve never managed to anger myself before. If it were anyone else they would already be dead; my heart spirals inward, demanding revenge on itself. Let Kakarott beat me. Let him tear the skin from my back. If there is anything left of my pride, it is in his hands. I fall silent, my tail lying limp on the floor.

He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. His expression stuns me: no anger at all, even a bit … triumphant? I don’t understand. Does he not want vengeance as much as I do? “Please, Kakarott, punish me.”

“All right.” He chains me face down on the table and takes up his whip. The whip that I gave him; that’s appropriate. The first blow falls hard across my shoulders, and I grunt as fire explodes into my mind. Oh yes, a good whip. He spreads the strokes out, layering fire upon fire on my skin. I grit my teeth. This pain will cleanse me; every stripe bites into my flesh until I pay in blood for my misdeeds. Already my body flinches under every blow. The whip lands across the base of my tail; I squeal and pull hard against my bonds, feeling one of them give a little. My eyes fly open. I blink at the shackle on my wrist: a plain leather shackle. Not a ki restraint.

_Kakarott trusts me._ Something snaps in my mind, and I scream as the next blow falls. _Kakarott trusts me._ The whip strokes are no longer a punishment to be endured; they are a reminder of this precious treasure. The treasure that’s still mine. _Kakarott –_ I arch up into his blows, welcoming them, surrendering to them. Touch me, strike me, stroke me, take me – Kakarott can have me any way he wants. In my blind ecstasy, I barely notice the lashes slowing down.

The whip stops, and the next thing I’m aware of is his hands rubbing salve on my back. I sigh. “Kakarott.”

“Vegeta.” He releases the chains. “You know I don’t ask for perfection, only honesty.”

“I demand it of myself.”

“Then you must answer to yourself. Are you satisfied?”

“Totally.” Kami, I am one lucky bastard; I’ve won. In coming back to him, I’ve won … everything. All the tension leaves me. I tuck my face against his shoulder; I’ve missed this since – hang on. Since I’ve been on a starship for the past two months. “Something’s not right here.”

He nods. “You’re supposed to be in space. And our house isn’t on Earth anymore.”

I haven’t noticed that. “So this is a dream? But you’re really here, I can tell.”

“Yes. It’s a dream, but someone else is meddling, I think.”

My rage surges back. “You mean someone tricked me into thinking I did – _that_?” My lip curls. “Please tell me it’s not Ren, I’d rather not have to kill her.”

“Shh, Vegeta.” He sucks on my ear until I relax. “And no, it’s not a Kai, I’d recognize their minds right away. It’s not any species I know.” And with his jaunts around the galaxy, that’s an impressive list. “At these distances, they probably need two people to connect us, so there must be one on your ship somewhere. Keep your eyes open.”

“Hn. Teach me to suck eggs.”

“I’d much rather you suck something else, before we get disconnected.” He runs a finger down my spine. _Kakarott_ … the shift of blood, even if it is illusory, is dizzying. Soft lips wander down the side of my neck; I moan. I’m already open to him after our previous exercise, and he plays me like a musical instrument, wringing sweet music from my throat. Gasping, moaning, whimpering, screaming – I always was a loudmouth; now he draws each sound out of me at will. I press against him and he allows it. Chest to chest, hip to hip, tails coiled together; his fingers dip between my buttocks and – 

I wake up. With an aching, weeping hard-on, alone in my starship cabin. “Fuck!”

#### Part 11: Trap

Although frustrating, the dream interlude with Kakarott has been good for me; our psychic interloper hasn’t been back since then, and I sleep like a rock. I’m in a _good mood,_ and looking for a little entertainment, so I direct a series of ever-more-fiendish training exercises. The crew hates me, of course. I don’t care.

Nine weeks. We’re coming up on the third rendezvous, and whatever trouble Bardock foresaw is waiting for us there. I can hardly wait. My tail flicks cheerfully as I order the ki sensor launched; it does its work even faster than the first time, and we have a fix in less than five minutes. As the _Gala_ flies closer, we can see that the “fleet” now consists of two clouds of metal debris and one intact and inhabited colony ship. The kis are all too weak to be adult Saiyans, except for a handful that range from high Saiyan normal up to Cell’s level. Fantastic. While they’re at it, they could paint “TRAP” on the hull in three-storey flaming letters. “Helm, bring us alongside. I’m going in.”

The initial scout team consists of a trio of human scouts, myself, and Gohan. Possibly not the most strategically sound plan, but nothing can keep the two of us from being first on the scene. I turn to the humans. “Ready?”

Their leader nods her equine head. Shapeshifters, all of them; as the airlock slides open, they transform into bats and flit past us into the gloom of the unlit ship. I stalk after them. I’ve decided to first try to locate one of the stronger ki sources; I could swear some of them are familiar, but I can’t place them. Adding to that, all but one have been ki-suppressed, leaving us with a single bait to follow. We’ll see who traps who.

The trail leads us to the doors of the main training hall. Our bait is the only ki visible inside but that doesn’t guarantee anything. Taking no chances, I charge through the door as it opens; sure enough, I run smack into a squad of concealed fighters. They look almost Saiyan, except that their hair is white and they have red markings on their faces. Oh yes, and they’re attacking me. Through the commotion I can see my objective chained to a pedestal across the room. He looks like nothing so much as a giant pile of hair – _it can’t be_ … he lifts his head. We recognize each other at the same time.

“Lord Vegeta! Stay back, it’s a trap!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I punch one of the quasi-Saiyans in the face. Gohan takes a look over my shoulder.

“Is that Raditz?”

“Hn. Go fetch him, I’ll keep these idiots busy.”

“Sure, hog the fighting.” I don’t deny it. The white-haired freaks are stronger than the average Saiyan, and they just won’t lie down. A dozen at once is just the right amount of challenge. Gohan cuts Raditz loose, he stands up, staggers a few steps, and crumples. Either injured or drugged. Gohan drags him over to me. “May I suggest we blow this joint?”

“And I was just getting warmed up.” I wrap my tail around their arms for the necessary contact and press fingers to my forehead and one training bay is replaced by another. Good thing I got Kakarott to teach me that. I hit the intercom, “Bridge, we’re clear. Undock and pull back a ways.”

_“Yes, my lord.”_

“Gohan, take this lout to sickbay. I want to ask him some questions.”

***

I decide to take a meal and shower while I’m waiting. The soldiers I fought disturb me; they probably are Saiyans, but under the Tuffles’ possession – and that makes me wonder why Raditz was left alone, and if Brolli will be affected or not. If the same entity is responsible for this and my dreams, I may have to kill them, bring them back to life and kill them again. 

I’m drying my hair when my door bell chimes; the ki outside can only belong to Raditz. “Come in.”

The door slides aside and we look each other over. Raditz is much the same as always, ridiculously long hair trailing to his knees, pants-less armor and those red bands on his arm and thigh – the mark of a Prince’s servant. He looks thin, though, what have those bastards been feeding him? He also has frizz on his tail but that must be because he hasn’t found a brush yet.

He’s studying me as well – staring at my tail, which I suddenly realize is waving back and forth in amusement. I lift an eyebrow at him. “See something you like?”

He snorts. “Don’t even go there. What happened to you, Lord Vegeta? I haven’t seen you with your tail down since, well …”

“Since Nappa still had hair?”

“Yeah.” He flops down on my reading bench. “You’ve changed. But not really … it’s like you’re more, you. Or something.”

“Inarticulate, but accurate.” I lean against the edge of my desk. “A lot has happened.”

“Is … that a claim collar?” I smirk and nod, and his mouth hangs open. I make a mental bet on how many times I can make him do that today. “Who the hell would you allow to claim you? The Legendary Super Saiyan?”

“Hn. It’s a long story; you first. What are you doing alive?”

“Damned f I know. They told us they brought back all the Saiyans who fought the King, so that we could lead a rebellion against him. There was me and Nappa, and the pirate, and the meathead and his psycho father. Then Nappa pissed off the meathead and he flattened him; they separated us after that.” Typical, of Nappa and Brolli. “I don’t get it, though. I told them I’m a loyal Saiyan and I never fought any King.”

Perfect straight line, thank you Raditz. “Technically you did. He wasn’t King at the time.”

“Huh?”

“I have only one question, Raditz. What ever made you think kidnapping a Saiyan’s child was a good idea?”

A second face drop. “What – that’s – you can’t be serious! He’s dead!”

“Look who’s talking.”

He makes a face. “So you and him … but I can’t believe it. He’s such a moron!”

I chuckle; his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “He had me suckered with that routine for years. I swore I’d kill him for daring to reach Super Saiyan before me without two brain cells in his fluffy head. You should have seen my face when I found out the truth. In the end, he took me without a fight.”

“But you’d never trust anyone enough to submit to their claim. It’s impossible.”

As I was when he knew me, it’s true; it was Kakarott who taught me how to trust. Conveniently, I have evidence. I pluck the video screen from my desk and cue up one particular picture. It’s from one of our many family cookouts; in it, I’m fast asleep with my head on Kakarott’s lap. My tail is wrapped around his hand which is resting on my flank, and he’s aiming an irritated look at the camera disturbing us. I hand it to Raditz. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words.” And then, as his mouth hangs open a third time, “If you do that too much, it’ll stick.”

#### Part 12: Can you hear me now? 

I take pity – ha! – on Raditz and give him the short version of the last twenty years, starting with, “It’s all your fault, you know, making me go after you back then.” Meeting Kakarott, then Frieza, Kakarott’s return, Frieza again, Brolli, the androids, Cell, Buu, getting claimed, my father’s return, Queen Glace and the restoration of Vegetasei. Looking more and more stunned, Raditz tries to hide it by flicking through the picture screen at random, and by the time I get to the present he’s discovered digi-Frieza and is idly beating him up as I speak. With excellent timing Gohan stops outside my door just as I’m wrapping up. “Come in,” I tell him.

Raditz looks up in startlement. As Gohan steps through the door, his face goes blank with shock. Looking at them side by side, I can see why; the resemblance is uncanny. Gohan gives Raditz a dry inspection. “And people wonder why I cut my hair.”

“You – have I met you?”

“Yeah. I was only this tall.” Gohan indicates the height of his knee. Raditz blinks.

“You’re Kakarott’s boy?”

Gohan nods. “Vegeta, I came to give you the scouts’ preliminary reports. And Ren is trying to set up a real-time data link to Vegetasei.”

“You should call him Lord Vegeta,” Raditz grumbles.

“I still owe you for threatening to kill me. Mind if I kick his ass, Vegeta?”

I love the smell of hostility in the morning. “I’ll do you one better, Gohan: you’re in charge of his training.”

Raditz squawks, “What?!” Gohan just grins. Evilly. I turn my attention to business; the scouts have made an accurate count of the other ship’s inhabitants. The strong kis we sensed belong to eleven possessed and three normal Saiyans, as I expect. The rest are Tuffles and fifty-eight Saiyan children, the only survivors of this colony. According to Raditz, the Tuffles are holding the children hostage against the Saiyans’ good behavior; I ask him how he likes holding the other end of the stick. 

Before he can come up with a coherent answer, my console chimes. “My lord, the link to Vegetasei is open and they’re fetching the King on the other side.”

“Understood.” I wave for Raditz and Gohan to follow me and all but run for the bridge. Heads turn as I storm in and snap, “Well?”

“Hello, Vegeta.”

I stop dead and every hair from my neck down bristles. I take a deep breath and force my tail down to its normal position – it keeps trying to wander up to my shoulders. Kakarott continues, “I hear you’ve found something _big._ ”

“Gohan can give you a more complete report, but we’ve run into someone who’s bringing old friends back to life.” I elbow Raditz in the ribs. “Say something, idiot.”

“What the hell do you expect me to say? And since when does Kakarott speak Saiyan?”

“Raditz.” Kakarott sounds amused. “Yes, it’s me. I’ve always been able to speak Saiyan; I think I forgot to mention that the last time we met.” He keeps talking as his brother splutters. “Vegeta, who else are you _dealing_ with?” All right, I’m not imagining that lascivious undertone.

“I’d rather deal with you, Kakarott. According to the hairball, here, our opponents are a few hundred Tuffles, Turles, Brolli and Paragus.”

“Gods, not them again. Wait, shouldn’t Nappa be there too?”

“Brolli killed him again.” The tip of my tail is brushing my neck and my pants are much too tight; I really am a hopeless case if I can’t keep my mind out of the gutter long enough to make a report. Of course, Kakarott isn’t exactly helping.

“I’m afraid you’re in for a hard time, but you know how to handle yourself. If you can pound some sense into Turles, bring him in; I’ll back you up.”

The gutter has never looked so appealing. “And – ah – what about the other two?”

“If they’re like they were before, you’ll probably have to get rid of them. Otherwise, use your discretion, I’m not going to ride your ass over it.” I wish he would. “But now, Vegeta, let’s see what I can … do for you.”

“Ah – Kakarott – you do realize that I’m standing in front of the whole bridge crew right now.”

“What’s. Your. Point.”

A sharp chill races up my tail. I can see his plan as if it was written in flaming letters before me: Kakarott is going to bring me off in full view of everyone, using only his voice. And I’m going to let him. Because I _am_ an exhibitionist, because it’s been two weeks since I last got off, because that voice is coiling at the base of my spine and sending sparks down the length of my limbs. “Hrrr … and what do you intend to do to me, Kakarott?”

“If I could, I would bring you back here and have my way with you. Hear your voice when I run my hands over your flesh.” Easily accomplished; I moan as he describes the action. It’s better when we can both hear each other; our responses feed back on themselves and drive us that much higher.

“You know I’m going to get you for this when I get home.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” I can just imagine him making some sensual gesture, tilting his neck to show _that mark_. A pool of fire ingites in my chest. “I know you like this. To display your body to one and all, and then deny it to all but the one you choose. Do you remember the promise I made you at that festival?” That would be the promise to take me right out in the middle of the dance floor. “Consider this a practice run.”

I groan out loud and clench my hands behind my back. I wish I could touch myself … but that would ruin the fun. I shoot a sideways glance at Raditz. “Hn. You should see how your brother’s eyes are bugging out. He’s never seen me like this before.”

“What, tail up and lips open, barely staying on your feet?” A menacing chuckle as I sway from his accurate description. Another moan spills out of my mouth; Kakarott goes on with, “It’s a good thing he can’t see what _I_ look like right now.”

I, for one, can clearly imagine it. A sheen of sweat accenting his chest, his eyes heavy with lust, tail curling around his legs like an amorous python. I give a tortured whine. “Kakarott, finish what you started!”

“Why should I? I’m having so much fun.”

“Kakarott …”

“Well, since you beg so nicely …” His voice takes on the dark edge I know so well. “Come for me, Vegeta!”

And I do. I stagger back from the force of it, and my tail lashes sharply. Fire roars through me from the pit of my stomach; it’s all too much – his voice and his words, the eyes watching me, the knowledge that I arouse him and that he can bring me off with one command. I clutch the edge of a console for balance as I fill my pants with my seed. I seem to be making a habit of that on this trip.

A few deep breaths as I come back to my senses. The whole bridge crew is staring at me; some of them look like their clothes are uncomfortably tight. I straighten up with a smirk. “Was it good for you?”

“It sure was,” he purrs, and then pauses. “Ah, Videl is here. Looks like it’s Gohan’s turn.”

“I’ll take this one in my cabin.”

“Wuss.” He gives me the finger for that and walks out. Kakarott says to me, “I think that’s everything taken care of. Clean up Brolli and bring our people home. And bring my brother with you. I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll see you next month.” There’s a click as the line switches over; I drag Raditz with me as I leave the bridge.

“That was really Kakarott,” he muses.

“Are you still saying that?”

“But – I mean, he’s like a totally different person. And how can he be so dominant when he was raised by those pansy humans?”

“He wasn’t. He was raised by one old man in the forest with zero social influences. He pretty much _is_ Saiyan instinct. Which is why your stunt with Gohan pissed him off even more.”

“Damn. Frieza screwed us over more than I thought. Kakarott must think I’m some kind of psycho.”

“He thinks you’re his brother, dumbass. Congratulations, Prince Raditz.” I smirk at his glazed expression; he’s had a long day and it’s not over yet. “Come on. I need to change, and then we have an invasion to plan.”

***  
Bridge crew: @_@  
Raditz: @_@  
Eavesdropping enemies: @_@  
Kakarott & Vegeta: ^__^

#### Part 13: fight 1, King of Earth vs Mr Satan

The black-feathered bird that flew into Bardock’s camp in the dawn’s light was not a Vegetasei species, so he was not terribly surprised when it transformed into a clothed bipedal blue dog. He was a bit more startled, though, that he recognized the shapeshifter’s description. “King of Earth. Taking the day off, are you?”

“After a fashion. I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, General, but I’ve run into a spot of difficulty. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mr. Satan about?”

“The fuzzy-haired blowhard? Nope. Why, has he lost it and gone on a rampage?”

“I’m afraid he might. He has been acting oddly during the last few days, and earlier today he crossed the portal onto Vegetasei.”

“Keeping tabs on him, are you?”

“For years now. It’s painfully obvious that he’s a few peas short of a pod. In any case, I was lucky to find your camp when I did; I’ve been flying for hours.” He dug in his pocket for a capsule. “May I offer you an Irish coffee by way of thanks?”

“Sure.” Bardock surveyed the camp; to his satisfaction, two thirds of his soldiers had woken up at the intrusion, besides the handful that were already up and catching breakfast. He waved them over and quietly put them in charge of punishing their less-alert comrades. While they were hanging the sleepers by their ankles in the trees, he joined the portly king for Irish coffee. This turned out to have hard liquor in it, and Bardock thoroughly approved. One of the soldiers let off a ki blast that manifested as an ungodly loud noise. At the first shriek the sleeping soldiers jerked awake, only to find themselves hopelessly tangled in rope. Bardock trusted they would learn to be more alert in the future. As they cursed and struggled, the King of Earth chuckled softly. “Takes me back to my college days, that does. Do you think they learned their lesson?”

“They better have, or – ” A rustling of bushes interrupted him; he turned in time to see a caped figure leap into the camp and strike a pose. “Hey, is that your nutcase?”

“It seems so. What has he done with his hair?” Mr. Satan’s normally sable afro had turned white, and red stripes had appeared on his face. He threw out his chest.

“Where are the boys? Bring them to me and face the consequences!”

Bardock shook his head. “Three mistakes, asshat. One, my grandsons are not here. Two, now we’re all awake. And three, you threatened children in a Saiyan’s earshot.” The soldiers cracked their knuckles in unison.

The King of Earth touched Bardock’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’ll handle this. I can’t leave others to tidy up my problem children.”

“Be my guest.” This, he had to see. The dog-headed, portly human didn’t look like he could take on Mr. Satan, but this was the same man who’d fought Kakarott to a standstill. The King of Earth faced his lunatic subject squarely.

“Hercule, stop this foolishness and come home. Your wife is worried about you.”

“No! You can’t stop me now! I have my final goal within my grasp!”

“Then you leave me no choice.” The King of Earth changed into a lion and pounced on his opponent. Mr. Satan threw a blocking punch, but the shapeshifter abruptly disappeared; only his ki signature showed that he had changed into something very small. He was hovering _inside_ Mr. Satan’s reach, around his elbows. He appeared just long enough to sink snake’s fangs into his neck, then backed off to let the venom take effect. Mr. Satan flung a ki blast at him, he turned into a megabison and absorbed it. He snorted – the poison didn’t seem to be working – and changed back into a small bird.

There was no hesitation in this match; the shapeshifter spiraled inwards, already planning his next attack. The caped human tracked his movement, ready to strike again, but the King of Earth was inside his reach again before he could launch it. At the first opportunity he grappled Mr Satan’s wrist and bit into his flesh again. Bardock was impressed; the King of Earth was clearly able to take full advantage of his powers. Mr Satan tried to grab him, but he was airborne before the hand could fall. This dose of poison had more effect than the last: Mr. Satan slowed fractionally.

However, the caped fighter also noticed this, and redoubled his efforts to knock the shapeshifter out. A whirlwind of ki blasts surrounded him; one of them clipped the other human, who tumbled to the ground in his base form. Obviously wounded, he dropped back for a moment. “He’s stronger than he should be. I’ve already given him enough poison to drop a horse.”

“Like us to join in?”

The King of Earth shook his head. “Mr. Satan does not know what we shapeshifters are capable of.” He wiped the blood from his face, his form shimmered and his injuries were suddenly gone. Before Bardock could do more than blink, he leapt forward in the shape of a hummingbird. The form was by far the most maneuverable he had displayed so far. He danced around Mr. Satan’s attacks, under and around, sometimes flitting sideways or backwards to evade a blow. Within minutes he found an opening and changed again: this time a Vegetasei animal, the aptly named Deadly Stringsnake. After that bite Mr. Satan slowed down significantly.

But the King of Earth was burning massive amounts of ki to maintain the hummingbird form, and at this rate he would end up draining himself to unconsciousness. It took him another five minutes to find an opening and deliver the next dose of poison. Now Mr. Satan was too weak to stay airborne; the King of Earth reverted to a less demanding bird shape. Bardock thought another bite would drop the human, but it took another five, so either Mr. Satan was way stronger than he looked, or the shapeshifter was cutting the dose. The Deadly Stringsnake had been known to kill Elites.

At last Mr. Satan collapsed on the dirt. The king of Earth returned to his base form and crouched across from him. Bardock pointed. “Get him a drink, you louts!” Then he pointed at Mr. Satan. “And get him a set of – what the fuck?” Mr. Satan’s body was … bubbling. Blue bubbles. They rippled, got bigger and lifted off him, shaping themselves into a hulking outline. A bright flash, and the form became material; curved, fleshy forehead crest, turquoise skin with red bars at the temples, clashing sky-blue eyes.

Bardock cursed. He had seen this creature before – but not with his outer eyes. He let his ki flare: _Kakarott, it’s time! The vision is happening!_

#### Part 14: fight 2, Gohan and Raditz vs. Turles and Tuffles

Gohan crouched in the _Gala_ ’s airlock and thought longingly of his red leather trenchcoat. It was stout enough to act as light armor, easy to move in, and was capable of looking nicely intimidating. However, the coat was hanging in his closet at home. At least he wasn’t stuck with that awful Saiyaman costume. But then again, now he had to work together with his _uncle._

“Let’s go,” Vegeta said to both of them. “Gohan, find the children and get them out; leave Brolli to me. Raditz, back Gohan up.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Raditz said – but not too loudly, since he knew they could both kick his ass. Vegeta just narrowed his eyes, and then keyed the airlock open. They surged onto the Tuffle-held ship.

Their enemies had to know they were coming; there was no way they could miss a forty-kiloton starship approaching and docking with them. No sooner had the three Saiyans passed through the docking port than they ran into the pack of zombie Saiyans with Turles at their head. Vegeta marched straight up to him and seized his neck before he could react. “Here are your choices: fight for the King of All Saiyans, or die.”

Turles scowled at him. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Choose. Now.” Vegeta tightened his grip.

“Okay, okay, I’m for the King. Geez!” At this Vegeta tossed Turles behind him.

“Keep an eye on this one, boy, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He shoved past the zombie warriors and vanished up the hallway. Raditz snarled at the new addition.

“Great, it’s the _vegetarian._ Tree of Might, the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you – ”

“Shut up. At least I’m not such a wimp I need to hold a little kid hostage to get my way.”

Sighing, Gohan took both of them by the collar and held them apart. “As the little kid hostage in question, I say you’re both idiots.” The zombies were moving towards them. “Turles, your friends don’t look happy.”

“They’re not my friends and I don’t care how they feel!” Turles blocked a blow from a zombie and punched it in the gut. Gohan clocked one in the chin, blocked a fist with his tail and kicked another zombie in the crotch. To his disappointment the latter did not collapse in a heap.

“Why didn’t they just possess you guys?”

“Don’t ask me! They gave us some crap about having our instincts intact, whatever that means.”

“Think, boulder-brains. What do you know about Tuffles?”

Raditz hurled a zombie through the bulkhead; it shook itself and climbed out again. “Some of us can’t fight four people and recite history at the same time.”

“Sucks to be you.” Gohan went gold and took a purely defensive stance. Nothing got through that; he was the immovable object to the rest of his family’s unstoppable force. His two companions took the opportunity to catch their breath. The stance also allowed him to free some of his own mind to mull the problem.

The colony archives had yielded little information about the Tuffles; he racked his brain for anything he could recall about getting them to leave a possessed body. Turning Oozaru was known to do it, but he couldn’t use that in here. They had to leave their host body to reproduce, also not applicable. There were unsubstantiated stories about Saiyan hosts rejecting a Tuffle who tried to harm Saiyan children, or a mate, or in one rumor a clan lord – all strong instinctive bonds. Instincts – control – “I’ve got an idea. Cover me.”

Now, did he have the right frame of mind to pull this off? _It’s not really the Saiyans attacking us, it’s the Tuffles controlling them. The Saiyans don’t really have a choice about it. Yes, I can do this._ And the zombies had faltered noticeably when he ascended. He grabbed one of them and slammed it into the wall; then he looked into its eyes and purred, trying to reach the trapped Saiyan he knew was within.

He heard Raditz shout something like _what the hell are you doing?_ but he didn’t move. The weird blue eyes widened and turned dark, and the hair flickered black and white as the body rejected its invader. A blue bubble separated from it; the Tuffle that appeared was a ratty purple creature, and he tossed it over his shoulder. He looked at the newly freed Saiyan. _Kami, he’s just a kid!_ And he was looking at Gohan with those huge, melting, irresistible puppy-dog eyes. Purring louder, he pulled the boy into a hug. “Rest here a bit, young one. I have some others to take care of.”

He turned around to see that Turles had ripped out the Tuffle’s throat. Very good. He pounced on another zombie and repeated the process. _Strong instincts. Thank you, Dad._ The possessed Saiyans still fought him, but they faltered as their instincts rebelled. By the time he got to the last few, he barely needed to touch them to make the change; Raditz and Turles mopped up the Tuffles as they emerged.

Gohan felt drained. Legendary or not, it took a lot of mojo to dominate a dozen people in one shot. He dropped out of Super Saiyan; Raditz and Turles were staring at him like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing, and the freed Saiyans just huddled stunned against the wall. He waved to the young man he’d liberated first. To his surprise the boy knelt at his feet, but he reached down to scratch his ears as he’d seen his father do with Vegeta. “What’s your name, young one?”

“Sehji, my lord.”

“And the rest of you?” They called out names, Remon, Parsil, Jinja … he’d have time later to get them all straight. After all, he’d just adopted them into his family. “Are there any more like you?”

Sehji answered, “No, my lord. Just us, and the kids, and those guys.” He pointed at the resurrected Saiyans.

“They’re with me now,” Gohan assured him. “Lead me to the children. We’ll get you all out of here.”

#### Part 15: Kakarott vs Bebi

When Kakarott ITed into Bardock’s camp, he found a standoff. The soldiers had formed a ring around Mr. Satan’s unconscious body and the figure standing over it, and the King of Earth lay gasping against a tree off to one side, his ki low. The being in the center of all this turned to face him when he appeared. The greenish-blue skin, the eyes without whites or pupils, the fleshy crest all said Tuffle – but this creature was far more muscled than any Tuffle in Saiyan records, and twice as tall. The growths on its shoulders made it look even bigger. “That’s him, son,” Bardock said. “The one I saw.”

“Right. I’ll take it from here.” The mutant Tuffle’s ki felt about the same level as Super Saiyan 2, and that was _resting_. Kakarott ascended to level 1 as he walked forward.

“There you are, King!” the mutant bellowed. “Excellent! I planned to defeat you using the body of the one person you can’t fight, your son. But now I think I’ll just take you over directly!” Its body suddenly morphed into several white streamers that shot towards Kakarott’s chest. He barely had time to IT out of the way; he couldn’t have dodged that the normal way at this level. The Tuffle shrieked in frustration. “Teleportation! Your tricks will not avail you, Saiyan. I, Bebi, shall take your body and your planet for the glory of the Tuffle people!”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Kakarott pointed out. He never interrupted a ranting enemy; it was like a coffee break and a spy report in one. They always let something important slip.

“This time my victory is assured!” _ka-me,_ “I have none of the weaknesses of my creators,” _ha-me,_ “and my powers are without equal!”

“HA!!” The ki blast caught Bebi, who was not expecting it, straight in the stomach. It barely scorched the mutant’s skin. Between one thought and the next, Bebi was on top of him and punched him in the ribs; he moved with the blow and flew into a nearby hillside. _I need more power._ As he picked himself up, he ascended to level 2. He went to meet his opponent – but had to dodge again as Bebi tried his takeover move; this time Kakarott had a ki attack ready and hit the mutant before it reformed. It squealed and came after him, too enraged to do more than pummel him with its fists.

It was powerful. And fast, Kakarott thought as another blow plowed him through the landscape. But on the whole it didn’t fight like it had much experience. Well, how could it? Surrounded by people much weaker than itself, it would never have the chance for a proper spar. And it wasn’t the type to lower its ki for the sake of training. Of course, that did not give it a free pass in battle. Kakarott hit it with a cutting disk which slashed a furrow in its arm, then kicked it twice in the head. Bebi flipped over and stuck a foot in his kidneys; then it went straight into takeover mode, and this time Kakarott was too close to dodge.

The watching soldiers gasped in horror as the white streamers engulfed him. But Kakarott didn’t panic; there was no room in his mind for it as, completely focused on the battle, he decided his next countermove. Part of his calm came from the fact that adult male Saiyans had virtually no flight response; he would fight until he fell. As he felt the first touches on his mind, however, he realized that he need not do anything.

This was Kakarott’s true gift: what the uninformed refered to as his “pure heart.” It had let him ride Kintoen, protected him from the Majins, allowed him to ascend to ever-greater levels of power – and now it served him well once more. As Bebi entered Kakarott’s mind, it found it like a single giant crystal, unified and without the cracks and flaws of self-doubt. It pushed against it, but Kakarott’s will would not allow the surface to break; though it battered him again and again, the Saiyan’s mind would not yield.

The entire encounter lasted only seconds. Then Kakarott floated up out of the white mass and waited for Bebi to reform himself. “You lose, Bebi.”

The mutant fairly frothed with rage. “Inconceivable!”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” Kakarott ascended to level 3, and this time he leapt in to attack. The blows left Bebi reeling; the power-up had closed the gap of speed between them to the point where Kakarott’s skill gave him the advantage. Bebi swung at him and he blocked it; he whirled around and kicked the mutant in the hip, the shoulder and the chin in sequence. He was the center of a storm of blows that would seem all the thicker to Bebi, who had never seen this level of battle before. Of course the mutant got in some hits too, simply because he was so fast; an elbow blow sent Kakarott into the hillside. He waited for Bebi to come after him, taking the time to prepare a Kame hame ha. The blast caught Bebi right in the face, smudging the red bars and erasing what was left of its temper. 

It shrieked, hurled ki about wildly, tried its takeover move again without result. Kakarott dodged and let it burn energy. With every wasted shot Bebi seemed to shrink; it wouldn’t be able to maintain its battle power much longer. On the other hand, Kakarott couldn’t afford to let it escape and perhaps take over some random person or animal. A Kame hame ha alone wouldn’t be enough, but if he combined it with … His ki flared higher than it had ever gone before. “Big Bang Kame hame ha!”

A comet at point-blank range, a thunderbolt in slow motion. The blinding white beam struck Bebi head-on; it threw up a hasty ki shield but the attack ripped through it like tofu. The mutant didn’t even have time to scream as its flesh vaporized.

Kakarott lowered himself to the ground and dropped his transformation. He was battered and bruised, cut in a dozen places, but despite the gravity of the situation he was grinning. A battle to the death came along so rarely, and he couldn’t in good conscience go looking for them, so he relished the challenge when it appeared. And besides, he’d won. Somewhere near him Bardock yelled, “Get him some water!”

“Make it a bucket,” Kakarott called. He looked over at the King of Earth. “How are you doing, Ilya?”

“Well enough, but I won’t be fighting again soon. I burned a lot of ki shifting out those wounds.”

“Now, that’s a neat trick.” A soldier brought the requested bucket, kneeling at his feet, and Kakarott took it. “Thank you, soldier.”

“My name is Arenji, my king.”

“Thank you, Arenji.” He looked around. The little army was gazing at him with a mix of awe and frustration from not being part of the fight; Bardock had to yell at them twice to get them to break camp. Kakarott wasn’t paying attention; Tuffles traveled in groups, so there were probably more nearby. He was trying to sense their kis when Koshubu’s projection popped up next to him. 

“Kakarott! We’ve got trouble!”

At the same time a shrill cry rose from the underbrush. “They killed Bebi!” A flock of Tuffles on small flying machines erupted from the forest, but fortunately these were the ordinary, unmutated kind. “You will pay for harming a Tuffle, insolent monkeys!”

“I don’t think so.” Bardock formed a ball of ki with his hands, which started to glow with the full moon’s light. “Right, boys and girls, it’s our turn to play.”

***

#### Part 16: Battle of the Super-Saiyans! 

Alone at last. Just how I prefer to fight, when possible – the years have taught me that it isn’t always, and that’s a pain. But not today. I have a score to settle.

They are waiting for me in the training hall, the largest open area on the ship, plenty of space for a good punch-up. Both of them, father and son. Why couldn’t Brolli kill Paragus again and save me the trouble? Whatever; I flare into Super Saiyan as I stalk towards them. “Brolli. I haven’t forgotten the last time we met. Consider this payback.”

Paragus sneers. “We have nothing to fear from you. You, who abandoned those who trust you rather than face their wrath!”

I laugh out loud. “You should check the results of your schemes before boasting of them, mustache.”

Brolli frowns. “I thought you said you had a _foolproof plan,_ father.”

“I did! There’s no way his honor could withstand the blow I aimed at it.”

“You know nothing about honor.” I’ve now covered half the distance between us; I rise to level two. Brolli’s ki starts to climb.

“Zibak,” Paragus shouts at the air. “Zibak, did you screw up the dream sequence I designed?”

The air replied, _“I set it exactly according to your instructions. You are the expert in the Saiyan mind; if the results are not to your liking, it is your own fault.”_ I feel sudden pressure in my skull. _“If you want him weakened, I can – aiiieeeee! A Kai! There’s a Ka—”_ Scratch one Tuffle mentalist. I make a note to buy Ren a drink. Meanwhile Brolli seizes Paragus by the hair. “You’re useless, old man!”

Truly a model family. I use Brolli’s distraction to plan my first attack; from our previous encounter, I recall he’s not too sharp on technique beyond hit them until they stop moving. That may be my biggest advantage. I wait for my moment – not yet … not yet … now. Brolli looks up from strangling his father just in time to see my boot fly into his face.

And that’s only the beginning. My other foot connects with his chin, a twist and both my fists land on his nose one after another in a whirlwind combination. I barely manage to dodge his retaliating strike. He comes after me and his next blow throws me against the ceiling. Crunch! Ah, property damage. In his fight with this meathead Kakarott used a Spirit Bomb as a booster, but I don’t have access to that; on the other hand, this time I’m not a sniveling wreck.

I swoop down on him, sink a dozen hits into his kidneys. When he swats at me I vault over his wrist and land several more on his face; then he throws me though the wall. He’s on me before I can get up and pummels me for a bit until I knock him back. “Final Flash!”

I strike him on the head. We trade punch after punch as we bounce around the room, the walls becoming more and more splintered. Whenever possible I aim for Brolli’s face, or more specifically, his eyes; I have a technique I worked up back when I was trying to kill Kakarott, but it depends on my enemy getting blinded, and there’s not enough ambient light for Solar Flare. By the time his eyes are swollen shut my skin feels like one huge bruise. I raise my ki and ignore it.

I clap my wrists together. At the time I thought it was delightfully ironic to use Kakarott’s favorite technique against him; now I’m just glad to know it. Ka-me-ha-me – stop. I toss the coherent ball of ki away from me, shaping it into a copy of my body, while I draw my own ki in. It works – Brolli takes a swing at the fake. I have to bite my tongue so my laughter doesn’t give away the fact that I’m really six feet left of where he thinks I am. I make the ki form charge at the same time I do, and rain down blows on him under its disguise; he can’t sense the blows coming well enough to block them. The fight is going my way for now. As long as I’m not in the way of his blows, I catch my breath and inflict as much damage as I can. Soon enough Brolli throws a point-blank blast at “me”. “Now I’ve got you!”

“HA!” I detonate the ki form and dive in for another flurry of punches while he’s confused. His ki spikes as he realizes he’s been tricked.

“You bastard! I will destroy you and none shall stand in my way to rule the universe!”

“Right, as the Tuffles’ lapdog. Some ruler you are.” His fury makes him faster; I can no longer dodge all of his blows, and the hum at the edges of my ki tells me I’m at full power. His fist rams into my side, snapping a couple of ribs. Not good. I’m taking damage and not dealing enough. Brolli catches me by the armor, then kicks me hard enough to rip off the chest piece and send me crashing into the ceiling. I fall back down and he catches me on his fist, throwing me into the wall. My body feels like lead; I struggle to get back on my feet.

This is outrageous. If I die, the children on this ship can’t go home. If I die, the Gara and her crew die with me. If I die … I can’t return to Kakarott as I promised. I can’t lose here. I _refuse_ to lose here. My rage touches something deep in my mind, like a key turning in a lock; a barrier falls. Power. An incandescent tide floods through me, a sensation I’ve felt twice before. I ride it up and out of my previous bounds; Brolli jumps back as golden ki explodes around me, and I stand up.

I shed the remains of my armor and – a moment of pure vanity – rip the sleeves off my body suit. I always did look best in a tank top. I feel light; I can’t even feel my broken ribs, and my feet seem to float over the floor despite the added weight of hair that now hangs from my head. I grin a grin vicious enough to make Brolli fall back a step. “I’d say this evens our odds.”

He snarls and leaps at me, so at least he’s no coward. I vault over his head and land behind him. “Final Flash!” The recoil throws me back, it’s at least a hundred times stronger than before. I knew I’d like level three. The blast catches Brolli right in the stomach, sending him into the wall. Before he recovers his balance I smack him around some more; not only are we more evenly matched, but I’m stronger than he is. Life is good.

A second round of the rubber ball school of fighting ensues. The edges of the hall look like the set of a disaster movie; however, Brolli isn’t taking as much damage as I think he should. Well, he is built like a brick shithouse, complete with contents. I just need to find a new way to cut him down to – cut. Of course. Now, how did that technique go? Ah, yes. “Destructo disk!”

The disk of ki nicks him on the shin and bounces off. “That’s your ultimate technique?” he scoffs. “You’re all talk, Princey.”

What can I expect from using one of Krillin’s techniques; I’ll just have to improvise. I never thought I’d take a leaf from Gotenks’s book, but here it is: when in doubt, make shit up. “Big Bang Slash!”

A whirling blade of ki, the same silver-gold as my hair, flies out from my hands. Brolli instinctively tries to block it, and it lops off his arm above the elbow. “You were saying?”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” He leaps at me, armless. He’s off balance and doesn’t compensate, so I don’t even have to dodge. Sad. A gertha has better technique than this. 

“Big Bang Slash!” This attack takes him right in the torso. As he falls to the floor, his hair fades to the underlying black. I walk over to him; he’s still conscious, but not for long. I gather my ki for one last blast. “Strike two, Brolli.” The last of his body vaporizes under my attack. Without another word I turn around and walk out of the hall.

#### Part 17: Loose Ends

As Tuffles and Oozaru rampaged around them, Koshubu shouted in Kakarott’s ear. “I didn’t want to interrupt your battle, but we have a big problem. There’s a fleet of Tuffle ships approaching Vegetasei.”

“How many?”

“Ships? Twenty. All battleships, too.” Too many – they would overrun the fledgling Saiyan homeworld through sheer numbers. And now that they knew about the power of Oozaru, there was no way they would let the Saiyan people live. He could not allow that fleet to land.

“Bardock, cover me,” he called, and raised his hands over his head. The energy ball that formed was a good four meters across, and he was only getting started. First his own ki at SSJ3, then the animals and plants around him. Vegetasei was a big planet and home to some massive animals; he could draw more power here than he could on Earth, but not enough. He would have to draw ki from his people. _At least this time I won’t need Mr Satan to endorse me!_ He reached out with his mind: _Saiyans, hear your king! At this moment, a fleet of warships is approaching our planet; if we all combine our power, we can strike them down in one blow. Lend me your power to defend our world!_ And they did – energy flowed into him from every corner of the planet that had Saiyans on it.

He dimly heard the bellows of Oozaru around him. He couldn’t tell who was winning, but there were fewer Tuffle kis than there had been, and the same number of Saiyans. The ball of energy grew larger than any he’d made before, but was it big enough? “Koshubu …”

“Technically I’m not supposed to do anything, but since I just happen to be standing here minding my own business …” The Dragon made a sound that was meant to be an innocent whistle. It sounded like a foghorn.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Kakarott added that stream of power to his spirit bomb, which was now so big that it overshadowed the whole battlefield. A Tuffle broke through the fight and rushed at him; Bardock dashed to intercept it, his ki exploding with golden fire. Kakarott grinned and launched his fireball into space. His mind followed it as it flew towards the Tuffle fleet; they saw it coming and tried to shoot it down, but it only absorbed the shots and grew bigger. He sent it into the middle of the fleet and told it to detonate. The power surge was too much even for his enhanced form, and he blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying on the ground with Bardock standing over him, his fur shining brilliant gold. Kakarott sat up gingerly. He had fallen out of Super Saiyan but was otherwise fine, and his ki was normal. “Bardock! I like the look.”

“Whuff.” The silver light faded away and the soldiers returned to normal. Bardock pulled down a spike of his hair and stared at it. “Me, a Legendary. I didn’t see that coming. Don’t scare me like that, son, it’s bad for my blood pressure.”

*** 

Gohan let Raditz and Turles take point as they made their way through the ship; they had some kind of contest going on who could take out the most Tuffles, and plowed through any obstacles with ease. Gohan occupied himself with talking to his new … what was he supposed to call them? Guardsmen? They reminded him of himself at that age: more enthusiasm than sense, and still insecure about their own power. This one was more thoughtful, that one more athletic, some were curious and some were shy. Sehji was the ringleader, or had become so from Gohan’s favor, and he stuck by Gohan’s side like a limpet. He seemed to think Gohan would vanish if he took his eyes off him.

When they arrived at the compartment where the children were being held, they startled the Tuffles in the outer chamber. Some of them changed to their takeover form, but Gohan’s ki blast incinerated them before they could do anything. The younger pack, not about to get possessed again, made short work of the rest. Turles started rifling the dead bodies for keys, but it turned out they didn’t need them; the inner door opened by a crack, and a dark eye peered out. “Sehji?”

“Raisa?” As soon as he said her name, the little girl ran out and plastered herself on him.

“Sehji! I missed you!”

“I’m so sorry, Raisa.” He took her into his arms and nuzzled her hair. One by one a few more children crept out, clearly the pack’s younger brothers and sisters. Gohan frowned. All of them were alarmingly thin; hadn’t they been fed properly? He turned to his sometime henchmen.

“Did you two have any idea about this?”

Raditz shook his head. Turles said, “I suspected, but …” Then the children spotted him and started waving.

“Hi, Uncle Turles! Candy man!”

Raditz’s lip quirked; Turles snarled at him. “One word and I stuff that hair up your nose.”

Gohan couldn’t help but smile. “Looks like Dad was right about you. He’ll probably make you an admiral once we get home.”

“What the fuck does your dad have to do with this? And he can’t make me an admiral.”

“Yes he can. Since he is the King, and all.” Everyone except Raditz looked startled at this; Sehji had that puppy-eyes look again.

“You’re a prince? Our lord is a prince?”

“Yep.” He ruffled Sehji’s hair. “Now let’s get all these children out of here to somewhere safe.” Before Vegeta broke the ship apart around them, he didn’t say. With the amount of ki he could sense being thrown around, they’d be lucky to have a spaceworthy vessel left in the end. “Turles, keep an eye on the door, will you?”

“Whatever. I’d better not go in there, or I’ll start smashing things. Prince.”

“Thank you.” Gohan remembered that Turles was touchy about his pride, and he was glad not to get in a fight over it. He stepped across to the inner door; the pack had sorted out whose siblings were whose, and Sehji was telling Raisa about the fight. “And that’s Lord Gohan, who saved us. I work for him now.”

“Hi, Lord Gohan!”

“Hi yourself, Raisa. I came to rescue all of the children. Will you show me?”

“Ok.” She jumped down and led him through the door. Even though he braced himself, it was shocking; sixty Saiyan children in one room with no supervision should have been pandemonium. This was far too quiet. The oldest children looked about thirteen, just short of adult growth, while the youngest was less than a year old, and they all were underfed. He understood what Turles meant about smashing things. The babies were the worst; there were two, and they lay listless on their cot, only their open eyes showing that they were awake. Gohan immediately scooped them up and started feeding them his ki. They looked brighter; one shifted to a more comfortable position and fell asleep, and the other began chewing on his thumb.

“Hey, Princey,” Turles called, “I’m not liking the sounds coming through the hull, here.”

“I know!” Vegeta and Brolli were still having it out, he would swear Vegeta had gone up to level three, and he didn’t want to end up breathing vacuum. Plus, some of these children needed healers now. He considered: fifty-eight children and fourteen adults. That made four children each; it was manageable. “Raditz …” Gohan looked around to find the older Saiyan cornered by a bevy of toddlers. They looked a lot like Gohan had the first time they’d met; they weren’t doing anything but staring up at him soulfully, but he was rather wild-eyed. “Never mind. Sehji, help me out.”

***

Raditz: what the fuck, woman – toddlers!?  
Sefiru: it’s called “poetic justice,” sucker.  
Vegeta: *falls over laughing*

#### Part 18: Homeward

I don’t know what’s more amusing: Raditz getting his ass handed to him on a daily basis, or the gaggle of toddlers that follows him everywhere like ducklings after their mother. The universe has its revenge. I often watch his training sessions in the guise of assessing his progress, but the truth is it’s just quality entertainment.

“Put your back into it! Turn from the waist!” Gohan snarls as he watches Raditz practice. “That was pathetic! Hold your elbows higher and do it again.” He watches Raditz throw the combination punch. “Better. Do five hundred reps.”

“Are you serious?”

“Just do it, grasshopper.” Gohan turns away to take a look at Raditz’s ducklings, who he’s been teaching simple moves like balancing on a beam. Then on to the pack of young adult Saiyans he’s claimed, running them through a set of katas.

I frown. Since it’s been less than a year since the third fleet was destroyed, it should be possible to bring them all back with the Earth Dragonballs, and as soon as the people at home got our report, they tried to do just that. However, Shenron says that it’s impossible; the Tuffles have taken steps to keep us from undoing their work. Just one more reason to hate their ratty little guts. On the upside, all of the rescued children have found foster parents among the crew; even Turles has adopted a pair, and there have been fights among the sickbay crew over who gets to keep the two babies. Raditz had better raise his ducklings right, or I will rip his tail off and flog him with it. 

Gohan finishes showing his pack the next kata and they all bow to him; I smirk at his disconcerted expression. Then he walks up behind Raditz and kicks him right in the butt. Raditz goes sprawling with a squawk.

“Your situational awareness is non-existent,” Gohan scolds him. “I showed you how to sense ki; don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.” Raditz just grumbles. “Keep going. I hope you didn’t lose count.”

I just grin. Crew morale is up now that we’re on the way home. _My_ morale is up; I spend hours a day training at level three, mostly just learning to balance my power and move with my changed body. I’m so pleased with it that I leave off leading my training class, though they continue to train on their own. I’ve put Turles in charge of the other ship, with a skeleton crew to help him repair what I did to it. He’s pretty bewildered by the trust I’ve placed in him, but he’s a lot like me that way; I’m sure he’ll come round.

I’m sure Kakarott will be amazed that his son managed to claim eleven people in one go. It’s the kind of stunt only a Legendary could pull off – not unlike taking a Saiyan Prince as a pleasure slave. If you ask me Kakarott got the better deal; quality over quantity. Also, Gohan seems relieved that he’s not required to have sex with them. “I was kinda worried,” he says. “What would Videl do to me? Especially since we all feel more comfortable sleeping in the same room.”

“So you’re the first of our new clan lords. Seems the old traditions are coming back with a vengeance.” Of course this sends him to the archives to research Saiyan clans. Most clans got their start this way, with a strong warrior gathering followers – though usually not all at once. He’ll have to build a clan keep to house the menagerie, too.

Back in the present, Gohan wraps up his classes. As Raditz emerges from the shower, his four miniature shadows latch onto him like homing missiles. As we walk towards the mess hall I notice his tight-lipped expression. “What, the mighty warrior’s been undone by a bunch of children?”

“Sesemi’s squeezing my tail.” I look over my shoulder and snicker; sure enough, all four of them are clinging to his tail like a lifeline.

“And you didn’t smack her? I’m impressed. You’ll make a good mother.”

“Screw you.”

“In your dreams, furball.” And then, as I precede him through the mess hall doors, I hear the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks:

“Hello, Prince Raditz. My name is Negi.” 

*** 

It’s landing day and I’m scowling. The crew is puzzled; they probably think I’m not happy to be home, but the truth is rather the opposite. I’ve been hard since waking up and my cup is pinching me. Kakarott had better screw me senseless tonight, or I’ll kick his trim and muscular ass for him. I can feel his ki now; I half expect him to IT onto the bridge and steal me away, but he doesn’t. So, he’s planning on making an entrance.

The _Gala_ touches down on her landing pad to the cheers of literally half the Vegetasei population; Turles’s ship lands just opposite. As I walk down the ramp with Gohan on one side and Raditz on the other, I can sense that Kakarott’s not here yet. I reach the edge of the platform and he pops into existence on the far side of the field; the crowd parts between us like water. He walks, steadily, with the deceptive laziness of those who can move faster than the unaided eye. The wind is behind him, washing me with his scent. He’s stalking me; undressing and ravishing me with his gaze. As he comes into my range I gather myself to pounce on him, but then stop, undecided. Which part of him should I kiss first – his lips? His feet? Or skip the preliminaries and go straight for his crotch?

Kakarott closes the distance between us and makes the decision for me. Seizing me by the hair, he presses his lips to mine, and then he begins to devour me. Slowly, patiently, the way that’s guaranteed to drive me insane. Our tails wrap around each other’s hips; his fingers on my buttocks are just too far from where I want them. I don’t mind. There’s no urgency between us. Now that we are here together, scent and sound and blazing body heat, we have all the time in the world to drive each other wild. His fingers stroke my scalp, and I purr from the sheer animal pleasure of his presence.

He breaks the kiss long enough to look over my shoulder. “Debriefing tomorrow at noon. I’m going to be busy until then.” It takes me a moment to remember who he’s talking to, but I don’t really care at the moment. He presses fingers to forehead and then we’re gone.

#### Part 19: Reunion

We appear in the front room of our house, and Kakarott throws me hard against the wall, vaporizing our clothes with his ki. Good thing I planned ahead and wore the oldest stuff I have. He throws himself on top of me, his tongue on my ear, his tail around my thigh, and his fingers everywhere at once. His voice is dark as he growls, “Touch me, Vegeta, I want all of you.”

Now that’s an order I can’t refuse. My hands roam over the skin of his back, marveling at the varied textures. An expanse of velvet soft flesh, interrupted by slick furrows of scars; softer at the loins, growing thicker across the shoulders, and underlaid everywhere by steel hard muscles. They ripple gracefully under my fingers. Maybe I’m crazy, but I could lay still for ages and get off on just feeling him move.

And does he ever move. He knows my body as though he had a map for it. He presses deep on the spots that crave pressure, ghosts lightly over those that like to be teased, drags nails on the places that like to be scratched. I wrap my legs around his waist and grind our hips together, ravenous for more of his touch.

“Here’s the plan,” he purrs in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, feed you a ten-course dinner, chain you up and fuck you again.”

I snarl in his face. “Fuck now. Talk later.”

“Agreed.” He rams into me. For the first time in three months I feel him inside me. My toes curl and my breath catches; I’ve forgotten how good he feels. He pulls back, surges in, his purr rumbling through my chest. My tail gropes for his and wraps it in a death grip. I can barely cry out in my passion, high-pitched, mewling cries that drive Kakarott wild. He drives into me harder and harder until I explode over his stomach. A moment more and he shoots his seed into me, a pulsing, surging fountain. We’re still hard.

I dig my fingers into Kakarott’s hair. “Again.”

“Hrrr.” He sets me on the floor on all fours and impales me once more, but he doesn’t move. Instead he takes my tail and runs it through his fists, one after another, over and over. I try to thrust back against him, and he puts one hand on my hip to hold me in place. I howl in frustration. And arousal. At a time like this, when we’re both deprived and horny as hell, he can still find the patience to torture me. “You know you like it,” he growls. Then he takes the tip of my tail into his mouth. All of my protests go up in smoke; my muscles go limp, except for the ones gripping the rod of flesh inside me. This is heaven. This is what I’ve been longing for, to drown in pleasure while Kakarott orchestrates every sensation I feel.

He breathes on my neck. “Touch my balls, Vegeta. Squeeze our balls together.” I live to obey; reaching back, I roll our swollen sacs in my fingers. Kakarott’s is round and heavy, throbbing in my hand. I press it against my own and this is finally enough to get him to move. Five … six … seven … this time he’s the first to reach climax, and the twitching of his shaft takes me over with him. We lie panting for a long moment. Then Kakarott climbs off me, carries me to the shower and sets me on my feet. “Think that’ll hold you through dinner?”

“Possibly.” I’ve already had two and I’m nowhere near satisfied. I turn on the water. “And you – you have a thing for carrying me around.”

“It brings back memories.” Of the first time he claimed me, sure. I take the sponge and start washing him, though when I try to tease him he catches my wrist with an amused look. I can’t get away with anything with him, but of course that’s part of the fun. He ties a towel around my waist and sets me at the living room table, which has been set for dinner – one large place setting. The rest of the table is piled high with covered platters. He sits down behind me and lifts the cover from the first plate: a dish of honey-glazed ribs. My stomach growls. We eat together from the same plate, sometimes holding food to each other’s lips, not wanting to be parted. I bask in his ki; I had gotten used to the feel of it, always living by his side, but now that I’ve been apart from him I can feel how strong he truly is. I would have no less for my mate and master.

We finish the ribs and then make our way through garden salad and cheese pie, grilled fish, megabison steaks with mounds of baked potatoes, roasted game birds and lobsters, rice-stuffed vegetables, dinosaur – a whole one – stewed with fruit, Namek fruit salad, and the grand finale, a chestnut cake. With whipped cream. All of it made by Kakarott’s own hands. I lean back, pleasantly stuffed, and lick his ear. “And now I’d like to bang you until we can’t walk; you said something about chains?” 

“Yeah, but not right after eating. I’ve got other ideas.” A set of shackles appears in his hands. “Stand up.”

This looks promising. I obey and he binds my arms behind me. Then he directs me to kneel beside his favorite armchair, facing forward, and he sits down in it. “Put your tail in my hand.” I do so. “Now, bend over.” I lean forward; he lifts his foot and sets it on the back of my neck, pressing my face closer to the floor. “Comfortable?”

Ah, that voice. My tail fluffs out and shivers. “Very.”

“Good. Now tell me every fantasy, every perverted idea that crossed your mind while you were away.” I smirk; we could be here a while. I tell him about the vines and the clothespins, the bacon-flavored edible underwear; of the things we’ve done together, the hot wax, the fisting. Of kneading and brushing and oiling him until he gleams in my hands. Of the misuse of acupuncture needles; of making out in a cave, in a tree, in a boat in the middle of an ocean typhoon. Of sucking myself off while he watches.

“Can you actually do that?” he asks.

“Hn. I’ve been working on my flexibility.” His hand tightens on my tail so I can tell he likes the idea.

“Show me. Come up here.” He releases my hands and pulls me into his lap.

“I was enjoying that position.”

“So we’ll use it again sometime. Now show me what you can do in this one.”

“Yes, sir.” I brace my feet against the chair on either side of him and wrap my hands around my ankles. Then I bend over to give my cock a long, slow lick. Kakarott has the best seat in the house for this; with me basically hip to hip with him, he only has to look down to get a full view of all my best features. I lick again, root to tip, and look up at him through my lashes. He’s drooling. I haven’t actually done this since I discovered it was possible, but I haven’t forgotten. Slow, straight licks until my shaft is straining and throbbing. Then a zigzag stroke right up to the head. I lick up the drop of fluid gathering there; I’ll admit I like my own flavor, though Kakarott tastes even better. I part my lips and take myself in. I go down until my tip hits the back of my throat; I’m not limber enough to deep throat myself – I nearly sprained my back when I tried – but this is close enough. I suck hard on myself before pulling back and teasing the head with several short flicks of my tongue. Kakarott growls above me.

I slide back down over my shaft. Suddenly Kakarott’s hand is in my hair; he takes control of my rhythm, thrusting my shaft in and out of my mouth. I make a muffled groan. I can actually see my balls swell in pleasure, and I can feel my tip shudder. Kakarott is fucking me with my own cock! When I open my eyes I can see his shaft right in front of me, throbbing with every heartbeat. I want it; my ring opens of its own accord to invite him in. He does nothing, and with his hand still controlling my head, lets me stew mere inches from satisfaction and unable to do anything about it. I can’t even beg with my mouth full.

He pulls me up so my lips are barely touching myself, forcing me to use my tongue to stroke my tip. His other hand appears in my field of vision, glistening with lube. He slicks his shaft once, twice, pushing my head down to match. Then his hand leaves again. For a long minute I’m left to contemplate his length, gleaming and ready; the promise of more is driving me wild, and that’s exactly what I want.

He shoves my mouth back over my shaft and speeds up the rhythm of – his thrusting? My thrusting? Whatever, until I’m worked into a frenzy. My lips quiver and tense around my flesh as my tongue seeks out every sensitive vein. I mewl and grind my hips; my inner muscles flex on their emptiness. All around me Kakarott’s purr thunders, resounding in my bones and dancing over my skin.

It’s all too much. All trace of rational thought is gone; I am this close to breaking his grip and flinging myself on him. And just when I think I can’t take another moment of this, he thrusts his lube-slick shaft inside me. I climax the moment he hits my sweet spot. I coat my mouth with my own seed, and then he unbends me as he reaches completion. He pulls me up against him; I press my lips to his and share my taste with him.

“You never cease to surprise me, Vegeta.”

“What kind of partner would I be if I couldn’t?” I lay my head on his shoulder and curl my tail around his waist, pleasantly sated. At least for now; I know it won’t be long before I’m craving another round.

#### Part 20: Still at it

No sooner had the royal couple vanished from the dock than Videl leapt in to give Gohan a warm welcome of her own. And although he was not as blatant, he was his father’s son; he devoured her lips as if they were fine chocolate and he hadn’t eaten in months. It was not that far from the truth. They only broke apart because they were in a public place, and their eyes promised each other much more to come.

Gohan turned to the pack, a silly grin still plastered on his face. “Young ones, this is my mate, Videl. Videl, these are our new clan.”

Sehji laid his fist over his heart and bowed low. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lady.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Well, I can’t complain about their manners. And you can stop giving me those worried looks, Son Gohan, I’m not going to yell at you. Much.” He faked an exaggerated cringe, and she swatted him. “Mind you, it’s a good thing I’ve had a few weeks to get used to it, but now I kind of like the idea. I got a capsule house from Bulma that should be big enough for everyone. Come on, let’s get this herd going.”

“Uh … where to?”

“To your welcome home party, of course. Follow me, boys and girls!” She launched herself into the air; Gohan rose up behind her, and after him the whole pack and their younger siblings, eighteen all together. None of them besides Gohan and Videl had ever flown in the open sky before. Raisa, riding on Sehji’s shoulders, squealed with excitement; many of the pack swooped around them playfully.

“There’s no glass between us and the sky!” Sehji crowed.

Jinja, normally one of the quiet ones, called out, “The air itself is full of power!”

“That’s weather, young one – just wait til you see a typhoon!” Gohan did a backflip in midair.

“Is that the forest? There’s ki everywhere!”

“So many smells!”

“The sunlight – I can feel its warmth …”

The ship-born Saiyans’ wonder was infectious, and soon both Gohan and Videl were laughing and playing alongside them. In no time at all, they were over the mountain city and their destination. Mirai appeared before them, standing in midair with his arms crossed on his chest. “You’ve finally come back, Gohan. I have beer – but to get it, you must defeat me in battle.”

“You are so on!” Gohan leapt forward.

***

From where I lie on Kakarott’s chest, I can feel it rise and fall with every breath. I hope he’s not asleep; I am far from finished with him tonight. He says he wants all of me and I intend to see how much he can handle. I’m not in any rush, though. Lying here against him is a pleasure in itself, a peaceful counterpoint to our passions; I nuzzle into his shoulder while his fingers stroke my tail, draped bonelessly over the arm of his chair. I breathe in his scent, the scent that kept me sane through the long weeks of my voyage. Right now I only want to wrap myself in it and never let it go.

Kakarott massages the spot between my shoulders. “Vegeta … your report said you went level three.”

“Hnn.”

“Do you have it stable?”

“Yeah. Want to see?”

“Please.” He releases me and I slide off him, stepping back far enough to give him the full view. Time for round … four, I guess. I make a show of raising my ki – I pause at level one and turn around to display my body. I do the same at level two and get a purr from Kakarott in response. The final change still takes a little push; I clench my fists and shout as I cross over the boundary and golden hair tumbles down my back. My tail grows a shapely tuft to match. Kakarott’s eyes are dark with lust and – hang on. “Why are you dressed again?”

“Only so I can take it off later.” Not that I mind. Blue vinyl painted-on pants, black tank top and an unbuttoned red silk shirt – obvious retribution for my little dance video. He pads towards me with his brows drawn down, a look so hungry I can’t decide if I want to step back or forward. “Vegeta.”

He brushes a thumb over my bare eyebrows. The touch nearly brings me to my knees. It burns, burns with an intensity that pierces me from scalp to toes. “You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, running a finger along my jaw. I lean into his touch and whimper.

“Kakarott, do you know how hard this is on my self-control?”

“Uh-huh.” He suddenly claps a chain around my wrist, one made of starship-grade steel, strong enough to hold even our enhanced bodies. I’m relieved that he won’t expect me to hold myself still through all this. How does he stand it? I’ve done similar things to him while he stood steady as a rock, yet he has me squirming with barely a touch. “So sensitive. Isn’t it amazing how each ascension heightens our senses? I think I could bring you off with just one finger.”

He stands behind me, pressing my hair between us, and tucks my head under his chin. Oh, it’s good to be short. My tail writhes between his legs and tries to grab onto his, but he dodges at every turn, and I can’t get a grip on the slick material of his pants. As promised, one finger – one single finger! – runs across my chest. He traces out his name. Then mine. Then the royal crest, all while avoiding my delicate areas. That’s just as well since I think I’d pass out if he so much as touches a nipple. I might pass out, period. His finger lifts, presses just below my lip, then draws a line over my chin and down to the hollow of my throat, where it swirls in a slow circle. I moan loud and deep.

I want to beg him to finish me off, but I can’t form an intelligible word. Kakarott seems to understand my distress. He sets one finger – still just one – behind my ear and starts to stroke. Warmth fills my body like hot sake in a bottle, mellow and sweet. When my climax finally comes, it seems to happen in all of my cells at once. I collapse into his arms.

“You’re beautiful, Vegeta.” His breath warms my ear. I can sense that he’s ascended to level three as well. I smirk; the most combat power ever assembled in one room, and we’re not fighting – quite the opposite. There’s hope for the universe after all. Kakarott holds me against him and tenderly cups my genitals. “Think you can handle one more round?”

“Hell yeah.”

#### Chapter 21: Like rabbits, aren’t they

On the far side of the dock, Raditz was staring numbly at the space his brother had recently occupied. “So. Much. Power.” Bardock shook his head at his blockhead son’s behavior.

“Oi, Raditz, over here!”

“Father?!”

Bardock whacked him on the back of the head for that. “You were expecting Lupin the Third? Of course it’s me, fuzzball.”

“Is there anyone else walking around who used to be dead?” Raditz looked rather strained; Gohan must have had a thorough revenge on him, so Bardock wasn’t going to tease him over it. 

“No one you know. Let’s get over to my camp, I have liquor.”

“Uh,” Raditz looked over his shoulder, “what about the chibies? I can’t just leave them.”

Bardock looked at the four toddlers clinging to his son’s tail. They were dressed in matching red and green outfits emblazoned with the words “divine justice.”

“Bring’em along, I’ll make them some warm milk.” The sight of those wide-eyed babies hanging on to such a barbarian was ludicrous, but his son was shaping up into a real man. Or at least he’d better, now that he was a prince and the King’s brother. That part could wait til morning; tonight was for celebration. “There’s just one more person we need – ah, there he is. Turles!”

The former pirate turned towards them. “What do you want?”

“Turles, son of Silpar, right?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Silpar was my cousin. You look just like him.” And had the same attitude, too. Turles and Raditz looked at each other with curled lips.

“Father, do you mean that – ”

“Yes, you’re related. Deal with it.” Neither of them looked happy about that; well, Kakarott should be able to sort them out. And if that didn’t work, he’d sic Gotenks on them. 

***

Kakarott unchains me, then tells me to close my eyes and sit down. I sense him move out in front of me. “All right, open your eyes.”

He’s leaning on the arm of his chair, arms crossed, one foot on the seat. His mane tumbles in golden spikes behind him, and his heavy brows give him a feral look. Delicious. The view gets a full body purr from me.

“If you like this,” Kakarott says, “wait til you see the rest.” And he slides his shirt off his shoulders. Sweet kami. How am I going to live through this? I came a minute ago and I’m already aching again. I glare at him under my brows.

“Can’t you just bang me and put me out of my misery?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He pulls the shirt off, and my eyes are riveted to every line of his arms as they’re unveiled. Deltoids, biceps, triceps, elbows … I lick a drop of drool from my lips. Next off are his boots, to expose those ankles that scream to be nibbled and sucked on. I growl deep in my throat. 

“Impatient Vegeta. You know you like it.” Of course I do – that’s why I want more! The only thing holding me back from pouncing on him is his will. And there’s nothing in the universe stronger than Kakarott’s will. His hand goes under the hem of his tank top and strokes; I lean forward to catch every flash of skin at his waist. Payback for my shipboard dance show … Kakarott is a master of revenge. I shift impatiently. Under his shirt, Kakarott’s hand goes up to his neckline and one finger hooks over it. With a little flare of ki he cuts all the way down. He peels the fabric off; flexed gleaming pectorals come into view, adorned with peaked nipples. He’s as aroused as I am, how can he be so calm? Maybe he’s just a better actor than I am.

He slides one hand to the back of his pants, undoing the button over the tail. Then he slowly pulls down the zipper. The pants peel off, and underneath he’s wearing – oh kami – a golden thong. One that contrasts with his tanned skin; no tan lines on that body, oh no. I force myself to concentrate on his chiseled thighs as he reveals them. His sculptured knees. Toned calves. Finally the pants are discarded, and he sits in his armchair, thrusting his hand into the thong to massage his … flesh. “Well, Vegeta? Come and get it.”

That’s all the invitation I need. I dive across the floor and tear the scrap of fabric off him. When his pulsing shaft springs free, I swallow it with a happy growl; I hum around him, drowning in his unique flavor and hardness. I’ve thirtsted for this even more than him filling me from behind, and besides, he’s one shot ahead this evening and I intend to settle the score.

He purrs, deeply, so I can feel it between my teeth. “Vegeta. Go lowerrr.” If it makes him make more noises like that, sure. I draw a path down the underside of his shaft with the very tip of my tongue before engulfing his sac. He groans deliciously as I roll his jewels in my mouth; I alternate between taking in as much as I can and teasing him with my tongue. “Hrrr,” he pants. “Lower.”

Ah, so that’s how he wants it. He said he wanted all of me and it looks like I’m going to get all of him as well. I drop my tongue to that sweet delicacy, Kakarott’s ring. The first touch, as always, sends a shiver through my body. I take my time exploring; this is the reminder, the reason I stay so close to him. He lets me in, lets me touch his secret places, the only one who has ever done so. Is it any wonder that I value this so dearly? I swirl my tongue deeper, trying to repay in pleasure at least a small part of what he’s given me. And he tastes so good … I could drink that flavor all day long. His tail curls around my mass of hair and tugs, but I barely notice, all my mind enthralled by the circle of flesh before me.

“Vegeta,” Kakarott’s voice comes from far away, “Vegeta, put it in.” I rise from my place as if in a trance and stand before him. Never does Kakarott look more kingly than at moments like this, with his body flushed and shining, ready to take me in. The fact that he’s still at level three makes him look that much better. Lube somehow gets slicked on my shaft – the details are fuzzy – and I slide into him. I barely avoid coming at that instant, even though I’ve already done so four times this evening. He’s that good.

Just when I think I have control of myself again, he clenches his muscles around me and makes me squeal. “Move, Vegeta. Show me what you can do.” His wish, as always, is my command. I pull out and thrust back in; he makes a noise, half purr, half moan, that goes straight into my bones. My whole mind narrows to one thought: pleasure for Kakarott. His sounds guide me as I drive into him, taking him higher and higher with each thrust. His hands burrow into my hair, stroking me over and over, and I take a similar grip on him. His teal eyes swallow me in their gaze for a timeless eternity until his roar fills my ears; I lose control of my power as he pulls me over the edge with him. Golden ki light explodes around us.

When the world comes back, we’re in our base forms, sitting in a nest of toothpicks. Kakarott rubs my back. “So much for the armchair.”

“I’ll get you a new one, it was worth it.” I stifle a yawn.

#### Part 22: Family Business

I wake up from a very nice dream to an equally pleasant reality. I’m lying in our bed with Kakarott’s purr in my ears and his shaft in my hole. I purr back at him. “You have a great way of getting me up.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He wraps a hand around my cock. “I know a great way of getting you off, too.”

“Oh?” He proceeds to demonstrate, pressing just _so_ , and right _there_ , until he brings me to a gentle and satisfying climax. A moment later I feel his seed gush into me. Ah, I never get tired of that; I sigh in disappointment as he softens inside me. “I want you in me all day long.”  
“I’ll make it up to you tonight.” He pulls out; I roll over and start nibbling on his ear, and we’d probably be here all day except that we’re interrupted by Kakarott’s growling stomach. “Come on, let’s get brunch.”  
“Hn. Don’t you dare starve to death on me now, Kakarott. I have so much left to show you.” It really is a shame that we have work to do today. A meal, a shower, and a fresh set of clothes later, we’re on our way to what passes for the seat of government on the new Vegetasei. We fly rather than IT and it takes us twice as long as usual to get there since we can’t fight the urge to chase each other all over the sky. When we reach the throne room Kakarott bends me over the arm of his throne and kisses the daylights right out of me. I don’t realize someone’s walked in on us until I hear, “See, Sehji, this is why I refuse to live anywhere in earshot of my father’s house.”

“Like you’re any better,” Videl’s voice retorts. I look up, slightly dizzy, to see all four demis, two mates, and all eleven clanspeople at the door.

Kakarott says, “Sit down, everyone, I’m busy.” And he goes right back to kissing me. By the time he lets me up, all of the meeting’s participants are here: my father and four colony ship captains, the _Gala_ ’s officers and Ren, Bardock with Turles, Raditz and the ducklings. These latter are in a corner with Trunks and Goten, digging through a basket of wooden blocks.

As usual Kakarott sits on his throne and I kneel at his feet, much to the amazement of the newcomers. “You look like the cat that got the canary,” Raditz says. I smirk.

“Kakarott tastes better than any canary.” I lick my lips.

“You taste just as good,” Kakarott murmurs. He looks at the assembled Saiyans. “Right, let’s get down to business. As you’ve probably guessed,” he tells the new arrivals, “I’m Kakarott, king of all Saiyans, and Vegeta is my consort. I welcome you back to Vegetasei; Frieza kinda trashed the place, so we’ve done some redecorating while you were away.” This gets a chuckle out of the ship captains. “How are your people handling the change?”

The old woman from the _Goldspur_ speaks up. “It’s certainly a shock for those of us who remember, that all of the towns and castles are gone. Worse in a way than if we were on a whole new planet. I have a feeling that some of our elders may choose to live on that Earth planet, but we are strong, we will adapt.”

“Good. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. Now then – Raditz.”

The furball gets up; Kakarott stands and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Just to make this official, I declare you Prince Raditz of the House of Kakarott, with all of the privileges and responsibilities of that name. And for your first job, I’m putting you in charge of the orphans from third fleet.”

“What?!”

“You already have a personal stake.” Kakarott waves at the corner where one of the chibies is standing on Goten’s shoulder to set a block on top of their tower. “They need someone in the government to look after their interests. I’m counting on you, Raditz.”

“I, uh …” I flick my tail in amusement; Kakarott captures another heart. Once Raditz gets over his befuddlement I’m sure he’ll do an excellent job.

“Turles!” Kakarott calls. “The same to you: I declare you Lord Turles of the House of Kakarott, and Admiral of the Navy.”

“Okay … king. What navy?”

Kakarott laughs and throws him a data chip. “Here. They’re laying the keel next week so you’ll have to hurry if you want changes made.”

“Huh.” Turles sticks the chip in his pocket. “And if I don’t want to work for you?”

“Then you can try to find a ship somewhere else, or get a job, or live in the woods and catch squirrels. It’s your choice.” Turles’s head tilts thoughtfully. At this point Raditz’s ducklings, apparently tired of blocks, toddle up and drag him back to his seat. When he sits down, they pile into his lap and fall asleep. His glare dares anyone to comment on how easily he’s been pinned by a team that totals a quarter of his weight. I stifle a laugh; Kakarott grins.

“All right, next matter. Sehji.”

The young man looks startled to have the king call him by name, but he comes forward to kneel at Kakarott’s feet. Kakarott says, “I hear you’re the leader of your group, and I’m speaking to all of you on this. I support Gohan’s decision; you’re family to me now, too. I know you’ll serve my son well.”

“Yes, my king.” Sehji tries to look dignified, but the tip of his tail flips in happiness as he returns to Gohan’s side; the Demi scratches his ears, and the rest of the young clan pile in to each touch him briefly, as if hoping the King’s favor will rub off on them that way. Heaven knows how they’ll act when Kakarott invites them to his next barbecue.

He lets the young ones settle down and then sits back on his throne. “Vegeta-jii. How is the resettlement going?”

“Well enough. Not that we expected to be colonizing our own homeworld, but we did plan for this. There are enough pod-houses to go around, but most of them are without utilities at the moment …”

As the meeting turns to more mundane issues, I nuzzle Kakarott’s knee and breathe in his scent, wondering what he has planned for me tonight.

#### Part 23: Whipped Veggie

Hot water pours over my shoulders, carrying the day’s sweat and grime away with it. My loins are tight with anticipation; after court Kakarott sparred with me for the rest of the afternoon, fed me another home-cooked feast, and then sent me to shower alone while he “gets things ready.” I can only imagine what he has in mind. If yesterday was a night of pleasure, then tonight will be a night of pain.

I spend a little extra time in front of the mirror, buffing my skin and putting my hair in order. When I’m offering myself on Kakarott’s altar, I like to look my best. I pull on a set of tight leather pants – the white ones this time – and a sheer teal green shirt. I fasten my ki restraints on a chain at my waist and then make my way downstairs. Kakarott is waiting, arms folded, wearing only a pair of spandex shorts that leave just enough to the imagination. I look him up and down. “So, what do you have in store for me?”

“Something I think you’ll appreciate. You gave me a gift when you left.” He holds up his hand and a coil of leather appears in it. _The whip._ On seeing it I feel a sudden heat in the pit of my stomach; I fall at his feet and kiss the hand holding it. He purrs at the sight and I look up at him through my lashes. “How do you want me, Kakarott?”

“Give me the ki restraints.” He shackles me, pushes me to my knees between the two posts built in for just this use, and strips off my shirt. He uses it to tie my tail to my ankles and both to a ring on the floor. Then he chains my arms apart above my head. Finally he opens my pants and pushes them down around my knees.

Oh dear kami. He hasn’t even done anything et, and my head is already swimming with lust. I can’t move an inch – the bindings on my arms and tail hold me stretched between them Kakarott has one more thing for my ensemble: he slides a butt plug into my hole. I cry out as it enters me. As I struggle to get control of myself after the sudden stimulation, Kakarott tugs on my collar. “Tell me what you want, Vegeta.”

“Ah! Whip me, Kakarott! Flog me until your lust is satisfied.”

He licks my ear before backing away. For a long moment I hear nothing; every heartbeat rings louder in my ears as I quiver in anticipation. Without warning the whip cracks and a line of fire erupts across my shoulder. I yelp; before I can draw a breath, Kakarott strikes me on the other shoulder. It burns! Even in our shared dream it didn’t burn like this, simply because I could not imagine the reality. Kakarott strikes again, lower, one shoulder then the other, alternating left and right sides. I twist in my chains and scream my passion. This time there is no punishment; only me offering my body to Kakarott, and the pleasure of surrender.

He works his way down my ribs in implacable rhythm. Left, right, left, right … by now I’m at the point of incoherent babbling. I’m vaguely aware that I’m begging for more. And Kakarott gives me more. The plug in my rear starts buzzing momentarily as each stripe lands; I lose what’s left of my mind. Pleasure, pain in perfect balance. I’m lost in the sensations.

Kakarott passes over my vulnerable lower back and starts on my buttocks without missing a beat. _Oh. Yes._ The hiss of the whip gives me just enough warning to lean into every blow. There is nothing in the universe like this sensation, piercing iron heat that settles in my bones; I want it to consume me. I can no longer understand what I’m shouting at the top of my lungs. I don’t care. He’s at my thighs now, his rhythm slowing. I absorb this feeling and become one with it, become a vessel for Kakarott’s gift. Then, just when I’m about to overflow with the sensations he’s pouring into me, he stops.

I scream in frustration. How dare he stop there? Use me, finish me, consume me – anything but this formless limbo.

A moment later he’s on top of me, yanks out the butt plug and slides himself in. I gasp, shudder and … his hand clamps around the base of my shaft, stopping my climax. “I’m not through with you yet, Vegeta.” His other hand releases my wrists and presses me to the floor as he hammers into me. The marks on my back stretch and burn, while Kakarott hits my sweet spot with every thrust. Each time it’s like a miniature orgasm exploding through me just short of completion. I’m unable to make a sound, I can barely even move into his thrusts, I lie limp beneath him and take what he gives me. One minute, two minutes, three – he removes his hand and I climax immediately, in vast shuddering waves that feel like they’re coming from the depths of my soul. He roars and pulses inside me, filling me with his seed and his ki at the same time.

I fall boneless to the floor. I’m hazily aware that Kakarott is removing the rest of my chains and clothes; he leaves them on the floor and carries me upstairs to the waiting bath. I rouse a little as he settles me in the scented water and climbs in beside me. “You give the best gifts, Kakarott.”

“So do you, Vegeta.”

“Hrrrrr.” I nuzzle deeper into his chest. My mate. My king. Mine.


	9. Enough Time (Future Trunks side story)

####  Prologue 1

He had heard stories about his father when he was younger. That he had been a prince of their people, even though there were only four of them left; that he was a proud and honorable warrior, despite the horrible things he had done. Trunks didn’t really remember his father, who had died just weeks after he was born. The only image he had was of golden energy surrounding him, a voice without words, gruff but warm. His mother and Kakarott both agreed that, though Vegeta was a man of few emotions, he was pleased with his son.

“I’ve never seen him prouder, even when he went gold the first time,” Kakarott would say. “He looked at me and said, _now I understand._ He grew up without any family, you see.” Trunks always liked to hear stories about his father and Kakarott. They’d been enemies at first, then joined forces against Frieza; Kakarott had beat him the first time and when he came back, Vegeta beat him for good. After that they’d become mates. They’d been the strongest fighters on the planet for a while until the androids landed and ruined everything. Now his father was dead and Kakarott was crippled, and the androids ran unchecked across the planet.

Only four of them were left, Trunks, his mother, Kakarott and Gohan. When Trunks was little they were constantly moving, always one step ahead of the androids. Kakarott couldn’t fight anymore, but he could still teleport them to their next hiding place. Wherever they went, Gohan and Trunks would train, Bulma would pore over her experiments searching for a new weapon or a treatment for the heart virus, and Kakarott would sit with his maps and notebooks, plotting their next move. He always had a little panel with him too, displaying pictures of his mate.

“If you miss him so much, why don’t you go to be with him?” Trunks asked once.

“I made Vegeta a promise that I’d look after you as long as I was able to. And it’s all right, because I know he’s waiting for me.” That was when he was four years old, and Kakarott did do his best to be a father to him. Trunks might respect Gohan’s fighting ability, but it was Kakarott he adored and whose words stuck in his mind. Gohan taught him to fight, and his mother taught him science, but Kakarott taught him how to think. He always supported Trunks when his mother complained about his video games; it wasn’t until he was seven that he realized those games were teaching him. Kakarott was a fiendish opponent, suckering him a new way every week. The first time Trunks beat him in a game, Kakarott wrapped him in a huge hug, his purr resounding through his body.

It couldn’t last. The heart virus ate away Kakarott’s body piece by piece, despite everything Bulma did to keep it at bay. One day when Trunks was ten, it was all over.

They buried him under a tree in the forest he loved so much. Trunks didn’t cry; he knew that Kakarott was gone to be with his mate, and he’d lived long enough to see Trunks ascend to Super Saiyan. But he never smiled after that day. He threw himself into his training, filled with determination to avenge his fathers. Gohan seemed to take the loss even harder; he would spend hours on the roof of their capsule base, just staring at the stars. Bulma acted like she was all right, but she kept working on a cure for the heart virus, even though it was now pointless. Gohan often argued with her about wasting time with it.

Things were harder without Kakarott. They had more encounters with the androids without his cleverness in hiding them. They all sustained injuries of some kind; they had a regen tank to use, but it couldn’t match the long destroyed senzu. In his time off from training, Trunks started researching spaceship propulsion, thinking they might have to leave the planet entirely. For months he got nowhere. Sometimes he wondered if this was a product of anxiety like Bulma’s medical research, but he couldn’t stop. And eventually he got a lead that panned out. A method to build, not a spaceship, but a time ship.

_I could go back and give Kakarott the medicine. Hell, I could go back and save my father._ It wasn’t as easy as that, of course. The plans took another year to create, before he could even start building it. The project even pulled Gohan out of his depression, and he helped write the software for it. They salvaged an old water tank to serve as the hull and began constructing the systems. All three of them were cheered up by having a concrete goal to work towards. And then the androids caught up with them.

Gohan was acting as a rearguard, buying time for Bulma and Trunks to escape. By the time they were able to return to that location, there wasn’t much of him left to bury. That was when Trunks was fifteen. It took him and his mother two more years to perfect both the time machine and the heart medicine.

It was a hard time. He hadn’t fully appreciated how strong Kakarott was, to keep going after losing almost everything he cared about. Some days he just didn’t feel like crawling out of bed; the only thing that made him do it was the will to live up to his elders. Kakarott’s strength, Gohan’s loyalty, the pride of his father. _I am Trunks Vegeta Briefs, descendant of the House of Vegetasei, raised in the House of Kakarott, the last Saiyan in the universe. I am not going to let a little thing like the end of civilization stop me._ He got to the point where he didn’t look up from his work when bands of lawless humans ambushed the camp.

“Look, I don’t have any spare supplies and I’m busy. How many butts do I have to kick to make you go away?” He didn’t feel sorry for them; they were tough if they’d survived this long. Bulma did, and sometimes left caches of medical supplies where other wanderers could find them. The other humans knew better than to hunt for the goose laying the golden eggs – most of the time. They rarely stayed in one place longer than a week, and always moved after an encounter, just in case the androids heard of their location.

But finally, three days after his seventeenth birthday, it was all ready to go. He and Bulma set up the capsule house in the best hiding spot they could find, deep inside a cave. He expanded the time machine and, as the engines were powering up, hugged his mother.

“Take care,” she said.

“I’ll be right back.” He climbed into the cockpit and strapped in, the heart medicine in its padded case beside him. He pressed the start button.

#### Prologue 2

Trunks knew as soon as the time machine landed that he’d gotten something wrong. He could sense a multitude of healthy ki signatures, but only one from a Saiyan, and it wasn’t Kakarott. _Father?_ The star tracker confirmed it; he’d arrived three years too early – in fact, unless he was mistaken, he was just in time for Frieza’s return to Earth.

_I should just jump ahead three years._ But if he went to them now, he could give them a warning. Give them a chance to prepare. _I don’t want to interfere too much. I might erase my own existence by mistake._ On the other hand … the more warning the Z fighters got, the better they’d be able to fight the androids. The fate of the planet won. _If I just keep my mouth shut about my parents, that should prevent that problem._ He climbed out of the time machine and collapsed it, then settled his sword on his back before taking off.

What did he know about this point in time? Kakarott was still pretending to be Goku, and Vegeta still hated his guts. Gohan was about twelve years old. Everyone he’d heard stories about was still alive, and he didn’t dare let a hint slip that he knew of them. _The less I say, the less I screw up._ Ki signatures danced around him, acting out the events that he’d heard told so often. Frieza and King Cold appeared; the Z fighters raced to meet them. But something was wrong. Vegeta was supposed to ascend as soon as he came face to face with the icejins.

Had the timeline changed already? Just from his presence? But … if his father didn’t ascend, the icejins would kill them all. _I can’t let that happen._ He flew at top speed to the battlefield and walked in just as Frieza ordered his henchmen to slaughter the humans. For a moment the scene spread out around him like a tableau, but then the first of the soldiers reached him and there was no more time for thought. He cut down all the minions in seconds and then turned on Frieza. Going gold and a fire blast distracted the lizard nicely, and in less than a minute he was in little pieces on the ground. King Cold wanted to see his sword. Probably thought he could use it against him. Trunks didn’t want to do it. Let filth like that touch the sword that Gohan had made for him with his own hands? But it would be the perfect misdirection. He handed it over, was ready when the attack came; another fire blast and the icejin was properly punished. He powered down, wiped off his sword and returned it to his sheath.

Everyone was staring at him. Well, that was no surprise; a Super Saiyan, but he didn’t look Saiyan, no tail, purple hair. And he was wearing Earth-style clothes including a Capsule Corp jacket. He locked eyes with his father (his father!) for a long moment, two Saiyan warriors taking each other’s measure. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Vegeta growled.

“I’m here to see Kakarott.” Vegeta’s gaze sharpened at his use of the Saiyan name, but Krillin jumped in first.

“You know Goku?”

“Heard of him. Never met him.” Technically that was true; he’d never seen Kakarott’s alter ego.

“He’s not here right now,” a very young-looking Gohan put in.

“He won’t be long. We should go and meet him.” He knew the exact place. Kakarott used to take him there when he was feeling nostalgic; if he recalled correctly, they had about three hours before the other Saiyan returned to Earth. The Z fighters followed him, mystified. He could feel his father’s gaze boring into his back, and it was all he could do not to stare over his shoulder at him. Vegeta was exactly as he had imagined he would be: fierce and hard, scornful of anything he thought was weakness. A match for Kakarott. Naturally.

They settled in to wait. The Z fighters pelted him with questions, but he only offered them drinks from his capsules. And he couldn’t help studying his father (“What are you looking at?” “Sorry.”). His timing was perfect. Three hours after they landed on the grassy knoll, Kakarott – Goku – materialized in front of them. He looked around with a wide-eyed grin. “Oh, hi guys. Who’s that?”

Trunks barely kept from showing his astonishment. Goku was just so different. He knew that Kakarott was in there somewhere, but he could see no sign of it. It was hard to believe they were the same person.

Vegeta spoke. “All he said was that he wants to talk to you. That, and he just finished off Frieza after he came back to life on us.”

“What? Frieza was here? And I missed him?”

“By about three hours.” Now Trunks felt disoriented. That was the same exchange, word for word, that had taken place in his history. Time travel would do that to you. Vegeta continued, “And he’s a Super Saiyan too.”

“Is he now.” Both elder Saiyans gave him a curious and less-than-friendly stare. United against a common threat, however much they disliked each other. Were they aware they were already acting like family?

Of course not. And he’d better say something before he felt the edge of their cooperation. “I’ve come with a warning for you all. A great danger is approaching the Earth and it’s much worse than Frieza. The good news is that you have three years to get ready.”

“How do you know that?” Krillin demanded. 

“How did I know when he was going to show up, dumbass? Oh yeah, Kakarott, I need to talk to you alone for a moment.”

“Sure.” Kakarott – Goku – gave him a sunny smile. Vegeta snorted, probably thinking what a naïve fool he was. But Trunks could guess what was really going through Kakarott’s mind: _I can take this guy._

Sure enough, as soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Kakarott immediately changed from “Goku” to the man that Trunks had grown up with. “All right. I can tell from your reactions that you know me, and know me as I really am. Explain yourself.”

Trunks gulped. “Yes, sir.” He needed a moment to gather his thoughts. “I can’t say too much, in case I change something I shouldn’t. I’m from the future. A future different than you’re going to get, I hope.”

“It must be pretty bad.”

“Yeah. Most of Earth’s population dead, and out of the Z fighters, only you, Gohan, Bulma and me were left. I was only a baby when it happened, and you basically raised me after my father died.”

“Your father …” Kakarott cocked his head. “Vegeta and … Bulma!?”

“Yes. I can’t give you the details.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Anyway, the problem is two androids. They’re a match for Super Saiyans. Vegeta was ascended by then, but they got him, Gohan went gold during the fight but it wasn’t enough. They took you out before the fight even started by triggering a virus you picked up on your travels. That’s the other reason I’m here.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out the capsule with the medicine case, expanded it and took out a vial. “This is the vaccine. One now, and one when you actually get sick. It’ll stop you from being crippled like you were in my timeline.” 

Kakarott gave him a long look. Then he took the vial, opened it and drank it. _He trusts me._ It was like a punch to the gut. Growing up he had taken Kakarott’s trust for granted; but to this Kakarott he was a stranger and an equal in power. And in such a short time, Kakarott made his choice and gave his trust.

“Crippled, you said.” Kakarott scratched his neck, thinking. “Badly enough to take me out of the fight. How long did I survive?”

“Ten years.”

“You look about seventeen.”

Trunks looked down. “Yes, sir.”

Strong arms wrapped around him. Kakarott purred; the comforting rumble that had filled his childhood, returned from the dead. “You did good. I’m sure the other version of me thinks so too.”

Trunks clung to him a moment more before he stepped back and scrubbed his eyes. “I can’t stay. The less I mess with this timeline, the better. But I’ll be back in three years to help you fight.” 

“We’ll be waiting.” He handed over the medicine case and the date and time of the androids’ arrival. Kakarott gave him a last slap on the shoulder and let him go. He flew back to his landing coordinates. Who knew what Kakarott would tell his friends, but he took the threat seriously and he would make sure they trained. Trunks expanded the time machine, set the controls three years ahead, and pushed the start button.

#### Prologue 3

It was all wrong. He went ahead three years and found that Kakarott was still pretending to be Goku, and that Vegeta was in some kind of relationship with Bulma. Vegeta ascended, but then they were all too busy fighting, and by the end Kakarott was dead again. There was no telling when or if he’d be back.

Holding his own younger self had been weird, but good. It was like having a younger brother. And he had a whole subjective year in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber to get to know his father. That hadn’t been pleasant, exactly; they were both tight-lipped, stiff-necked loners and were bound to grate on each other’s nerves. And to say they differed in battle tactics was the understatement of several centuries. They trained hard and spoke little, but over that year it was enough. Each learned to respect the other’s abilities, and if Trunks couldn’t be sure how much (or if) Vegeta cared for him, Vegeta would never know how much Trunks looked up to him. The elder Saiyan was everything his son aspired to be; the stories about him didn’t do him justice. He and Kakarott were obviously made for each other.

But that wasn’t going to get a chance to happen. He climbed back into his time machine swearing under his breath, and returned to his native timeline. He came back scarcely an hour after he had left, and everything was still in its place. He knocked on the door of the capsule house in his secret code and Bulma opened it. She immediately threw her arms around him. “You look so grown up! How long was it for you?”

“About two years, give or take.”

“And? How’d it go?”

“Well, I saved the planet, but I think I screwed up the family.” They sat down in the living room and he told her all about it. “Father and Kakarott and Gohan, all of them were so great. You should have seen it.”

“One version of me did.” She sneezed.

“Are you ok?”

“Just a little flu coming on.”

His work wasn’t over yet. In this world the androids were still running loose, and now he knew he had to look out for Cell, too. He made his mother some chicken soup, put her to bed, and went on the hunt.

The androids were easier the second time around. Not total pushovers, by any means, but he knew them now. Knew their moves and reactions, the way they thought. He’d even gotten some priceless inside information from the other timeline’s #18. Two years of intense but unhurried training, plus the power ups of the Cell Games, should give him the last of the advantages he needed.

He found them in a partly ruined city, taking them by surprise as they attacked a group of squatters. Somehow they knew there was no point in taunting him now; 17 aimed an energy blast at him but he dodged it easily. Next came a blow to the gut and he rolled with it, fell into a wall and charged back to return the favor. They didn’t know what to make of his sudden increase in power, they were confused, and that was their undoing. He got close enough to 18 to deliver a flare beam at point blank range. Then he whipped out his sword – poured ki into it – pounced on 17 who was still staring in disbelief. The android tried to run but Trunks was faster.

With both androids no more than piles of meat and metal, he powered down and then slowly lowered his blade to the ground. It was over. The task for which he’d trained all his life, was done.

What now?

He shrugged. There was still Cell, and after that … he’d think of something. He came home to find his mother pale and delirious with a high fever. This was not good. His medical training ran more to violent trauma than to disease, but he gave her what medicine they had. The next few weeks he divided his time between looking out for Cell and caring for Bulma. Day by day she grew weaker, until she couldn’t get out of bed on her own. Not even a session in the regen tank helped. Was he going to lose her too?

When he finally found Cell skulking around, his mind wasn’t really on the battle. Cell was stuck in his imperfect form this time and it was almost too easy. Trunks took out his frustration on the green monster, even swinging him around by the tail before finishing him off. He left the ugly thing for the scavengers, his mind already on other things.

Bulma was barely conscious when he came back. “Did you get him?”

“Yeah, mom. I got him good.”

“Oh … good.”

He took her hand; it was cool and trembled in his. “How do you feel?”

“Not too great … I might not make it this time.”

“Mom!”

“Shh. At least one version of me will survive. Listen, Trunks; the Kais will take care of this Earth. Take the time machine and go – go to the other timeline. Saiyans shouldn’t be alone.”

“Mom …”

She didn’t wake up after that. Three days later she was gone. He could find no particular cause for her illness; just seventeen years of unbearable stress, organs aged before their time, opportunistic germs. He buried her next to the rest of her family. He resolved to follow her last wishes, but when he checked his capsule case he found that someone had run off with the time machine. Cell, of course. Or rather, Cell’s clone-twin. Well, that was the last of the loose ends taken care of. It took him about six months to build a duplicate time machine, his impatience growing daily.

This isolation was intolerable. He could easily see how a person could go to extreme lengths to relieve the loneliness. To conquer planets just to surround himself with minions. More and more the time machine seemed like an escape. In another time, he had a family; they had given him a name, Mirai. He would go there. He would be Mirai, Trunks’s older brother, lieutenant to his father. With great relief he climbed into the time machine, all his possessions in a capsule on his belt, and pulled out an old twenty-sided dice. He rolled it and it came up seven. Lucky seven. He set the time machine for seven years after his last visit, and for the fourth time, pressed the start button.

#### Part 1: Settling in

The planet was still there; that was always a good sign. He opened his senses to ki and almost grinned at what he found. Five Super Saiyan level ki signatures – the three demi-Saiyans, Vegeta and Kakarott. He’d come back to life even stronger than he’d been before. He checked the other sensors. Earth’s status was as expected, no unusual energies, Dragonballs currently inactive. If he was lucky, he’d landed in a peaceful time. He shut down the time machine and prayed he’d never have to use it again.

Before he could even decide who to approach first, Gohan’s ki flared and turned in his direction. In minutes they were standing face to face. “Mirai! I thought we’d never see you again. What brings you here this time?”

Mirai (he determined to think of himself by that name) studied the other demi. Now he looked exactly like the Gohan he had grown up with, though a lot less scarred and weary. It was a bit creepy. “I’m here to stay if I can. I got the androids and Cell in my timeline. Then Mom got sick and died. She was right, I couldn’t handle being alone. Gods, I need a vacation.”

Gohan stared. “Sounds like you need more than a vacation. How long has it been for you?”

“A few months. I had to build a new time machine. If my math is right, this is seven years after Cell. And I sense Kakarott is back, too. What’s been happening?”

“A lot,” Gohan said as they rose into the air. “It’s weird, actually – Dad’s only been back a month and then you show up.” As they flew he related the horrific events of the Buu debacle. Mirai was tempted to jump right back in his time machine and go back to help; but that would just create another alternate timeline. Besides, things had actually come out all right for once – the Earth was safe, the villains were gone and everyone was alive who should be. He was bowled over, though, at finding out his father had been brought back to life as a “good person”. Family life must have changed him more than Mirai imagined.

Gohan’s cell phone rang. “Hang on, that’s Dad.” He picked up. “Hi, Dad … yeah, we’re coming. And you’ll never guess who just turned up – Mirai Trunks. No, he says he wants a rest. Sure, I’ll ask him. Got it. See ya.” He hung up. “Dad’s having a barbecue for everyone tonight and he said you’re welcome to come. Vegeta might even show up.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything about Kakarott and Vegeta being mated, but now that they were alive and had the free time, he was sure it would happen sooner or later. And … he needed to see them all, on a level as deep as hunger or thirst. “I’ll come.”

“Great! Dad wants me to get some stuff; if you need anything we can get it at the same time. Oh, and I guess you need a place to stay.”

“I brought my capsule house.” And no money, except for a pile of gold nuggets in the attic. 

***

He chose a patch overlooking a river, deep in the forest, which reminded him of the happier times of his childhood. The house was pretty beat-up, and now that he was on an undamaged Earth, lots of parts needed replacing. He dragged Gohan through the place as he made up a shopping list. _Food, of course … lightbulbs … front door needs new hinges … hot water heater … oh yeah, new towels. Mine are scuzzy … window screens …_

“Hey, they still make games for this,” Gohan exclaimed when he saw the game console.

New games! “Okay, that goes on the list.” They flew off to town and spent a glorious afternoon buying his supplies with Gohan’s money (“You can pay me back later”). Hours later they returned to the house with laden capsules and set to work. Mirai was floating near the ceiling, swearing at the light fixture when Kakarott’s ki signature flicked into being nearby.

“Hi guys! Can I come in?”

“Go ahead. Frickin’ piece of crap,” he muttered, and yanked the fixture off its brackets. The whole unit would need to be replaced. Kakarott – “Goku” at the moment – padded in. “Grab a seat.”

The elder Saiyan flopped down on the end of the couch and blinked. “This seat feels like I’ve sat in it for years.”

Mirai glanced over. “You did. Sort of.”

“Ah.” He looked faintly weirded out, but stayed in the seat. It brought home that these were the same people, and not someone else of the same name. “Any idea what you’re going to do now?”

“Not really. Explore civilization. Relax. Have fun. I’ll need to get a job, I guess. How do you make money?”

“Heh, living off the forest, as always. Gemstones, furs, whatever I find.” Mirai made a face and Kakarott chuckled. “Or you could do what your father does.”

“What’s that?”

“He does custom projects for Capsule Corp. I hear he’s a real prima donna about it.”

“I can imagine.” Crafty Kakarott; in so short a time, he was already up to date on Vegeta’s business. Mirai would pay money to see the look on his father’s face when he realized how thoroughly the younger Saiyan had outfoxed him. Which was a strange thing to say about someone who was almost elementally straightforward, but there it was. Kakarott could come straight at you from a direction where you never saw it coming. _Oh, yeah, that reminds me._ “Have you got a regular sparring schedule or anything?”

“Not really. Just show up around dawn or after lunch and someone will probably be there. The sparring ground is the same as before.”

***

Everyone was there. It was a little overwhelming; he had literally never been around so many people in his life. Seeing Bulma was a particular shock. At first it was like seeing a ghost, and it didn’t help that she immediately pounced on him acting exactly like, well, exactly like herself. The human Z fighters greeted him like an old friend with back thumps and offers of beer; Gohan introduced him to Videl; Piccolo graced him with his usual dry sarcasm (“So good of you to drop by. What planet-threatening disaster are you warning us of this time?”) and he gave as good as he got (“Your fashion sense. Unfortunately, though, it’s beyond the help of even a Super Saiyan”). 

“Goku” gave him a cheery wave from beside the barbecue, and when no one else was looking, a wink. That subtle reminder was enough to calm him down. That, and his hyperactive bother. Goten and Trunks impressed him. Already so powerful at eight years old, and his father’s fighting style showed in them. Goten was almost the mirror image of him, each raised by the other’s father. And if even half the stories about Gotenks were true … 

The most startling part, though, was his father. Vegeta appeared just as the meal was ready, seemingly ignoring the other guests as he marched up to the grill. He gave Mirai a long stare and then said, “Hn. I’ve learned some patience in these eight years, boy.”

“Yeah … I’m still working on the aggression thing. Father.”

“And lose the formal talk, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Thanks … Dad.” Vegeta grunted again and stalked away, but Mirai almost lost his jaw. His father, the Prince of All Saiyans, had just uttered an apology.

#### Part 2: Royal Family

Trunks was in the kitchen at Capsule Corporation, eating breakfast. Bulma had taken one look at the dilapidated capsule house and hauled him off to a room in her complex, not that he was complaining; she’d even given him an allowance until his own projects started bringing in money. He was bored, but in a good way. No one was trying to kill him and he could use his time as he wished: playing video games, training, exploring civilization (he wasn’t sure yet if he liked it), or just puttering around in his lab. He could research anything he wanted, and without rushing. All he needed now was a girlfriend.

He’d been with girls before, of course; his life hadn’t been totally isolated, and not all of the family’s encounters with others had been hostile. But those had all been one night stands. He wanted to try his hand at a relationship.

Goten and Trunks tumbled into the kitchen, already in a tussle. He gave them a flat look. “You know mom says no sparring in the house.” Bulma had insisted he call her that.

“Whatever. You seen dad around?”

“Nope.” In fact, he hadn’t seen Vegeta at all outside training for the last couple of weeks. He probably had some special project going. Or else … Kakarott hadn’t been around much either. Now sparring with him had been an experience! When he’d gone to level three Mirai had been so startled he dropped out of gold entirely. Luckily for him, Kakarott had merely got him in a headlock and given him a noogie. Such power! Damn, but his father was the luckiest man alive.

The boys thundered out while he was thinking. Was he ever that rowdy? He finished his eggs and started on a bagel. He’d just bought a new game and was eager to test it out. Hopefully it would be better than the last one. _I could write better than that crap … now there’s a thought. There’s good money in game design._ The door clattered again and Gohan and Videl came in.

“You guys up already?”

“What do you mean already? It’s eleven o’clock. I’ve been up for hours.”

Videl dropped a clutch of bags on the table. “We brought some groceries for Bulma.” She pulled out boxes of noodles and started stacking them in the cabinets. Gohan sat down at the table with a marker and wrote the date on packs of frozen meat – another habit that both versions of Bulma shared. 

“Hey. Videl and I are going out Friday night, you want to come along?”

“Sure, sounds interesting. Who knows, maybe I’ll even meet someone.”

“Good luck,” Videl snorted. “The girls in these places, you say _I know a nice cliff, wanna climb it?_ And they go _oh no, I might break a nail._ ” She mimicked the fluttery body language, and Mirai snickered. “Unless you swing the other way, of course.”

“I’ve done both, but I’d rather have girls. You got any sisters?”

“Eeew! Nope.” She giggled and finished the load of groceries by tipping the cans into a hopper for the robotic pantry to sort. “So you’re coming Friday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Mirai stood up to take his dishes to the sink. Gohan and Videl helped themselves to drinks, and they chatted for a while about the nightclub and what they planned to do there. The younger Demis returned, dusty and sweaty and grabbed cans of soda for themselves. Mirai wasn’t about to ask what they’d been doing. They hung around, trying to pretend they weren’t listening to the older trio’s conversation.

A whine of turbines sounded outside and then a thump as Bulma’s aircraft landed without the use of brakes. Then the door crashed open as she tore into the room. “That _pervert!_ ” she howled.

“Who? Master Roshi?”

“Your father,” she pointed at Gohan, “has seduced Vegeta into Kami knows what perversion! He was chained to the wall! I never thought Goku could do such a thing – and for Vegeta to agree to it! Aaargh!” She stormed away up the stairs, still ranting. The four Demis (and Videl) looked at each other.

“Did she just say our dads were having sex?” Goten asked.

“I think so. Eew.”

“Dad? And Vegeta? I can’t believe it.”

“You could go ask them.” Mirai suppressed a smirk. Goku wouldn’t do something like that – but Kakarott would. He’d finally made his move.

***

Kakarott, new and improved. That was what it felt like to Mirai. When the elder Saiyan walked though the door with Vegeta at his heels, he knew that “Goku” was gone forever. This was the man he had grown up with … but with years more combat experience and far more raw power. And he wasn’t crippled and he wasn’t in charge of a harried band of fugitives. Confidence and authority rolled off him. The other three Demis gaped at this sudden transformation, but Mirai just leaned against the wall and basked in their presence: the last two full-blooded Saiyans in the universe, the pinnacle of their race.

The explanations took less than a minute. And when Vegeta denied his claim on the throne, Mirai knew that it was real. Kakarott picked up on his reaction and commanded him to speak, and he was finally able to tell them the truth about his native timeline. “In my timeline you claimed Vegeta right after he first went Super Saiyan. It’s the House of Kakarott, there. You will have no argument from me.” A more demonstrative person might, at this point, have gone to his knees to swear fealty; he just bent his head slightly.

Vegeta’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t comment. Kakarott was busy reassuring his sons: “No, Goten, I haven’t gone crazy. I just grew up a little.”

“But … why Vegeta?”

“Because he’s really sexy.” Mirai had to smirk at the boggled reactions this produced. And from the look on his father’s face, he was planning a demonstration of just how sexy he was, as soon as his offspring left.

“This is why Mom kicked you out, isn’t it,” Gohan said. “It was the same when I hit my adult growth. She can’t deal with mature Saiyans.”

“Pretty much. It’s sad, but she’s a little scared of us.” He turned to his younger son. “Are you scared?”

“Naw, you’re my dad.” Goten jumped on his lap for a quick hug. Kakarott purred. Meanwhile younger Trunks wandered up to Vegeta.

“Mom thinks Goku tricked you into this.”

“I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want to, boy.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t think so.” Two very different families, about to become one. Kakarott and Vegeta gave signs of wanting some alone time, so Mirai helped them chivy his _brothers_ out the door. They’d just come in from sparring and probably wanted a shower, among other things. Gohan went to give Videl the after-action report; Mirai made sure the chibies got home safely, then grabbed his wallet. He had some shopping to do.

#### Part 3: Club

Deep bass thundered all around them. It resonated in their bones and ruffled their hair. Mirai wasn’t sure if he could call it music, but he liked it. The nightclub was largely dark save for coloured beams of light piercing the mist on the dance floor; it had a singular smell of crowded bodies, alcohol and ozone. Unidentifiable snacks on geometric plates were scattered across the tables.

At least he’d dressed appropriately. Laced leather boots, black leather pants, black leather jacket liberally studded with chrome. He’d found a shirt with black-on-black printing that read “N1NJ4”. Videl was in a sleek white vinyl number with fluorescent plastic jewelry, and Gohan was nearly the match to him, but with a metallic red trenchcoat. 

Mirai didn’t actually know how to dance, but he was a quick study. Three songs’ worth of observation, and he slipped off his seat to take his chances. He chose a spot where the light would strike him to advantage; soon it was noticed that he was (a) available and (b) good looking, and he started attracting girls. The first was a bony little thing in a froth of black lace and ribbons, her skin paled by a thick coat of powder. “Greetings,” she intoned.

“Yo.”

“I sense a kindred spirit within you,” she continued. “I sense a soul who has looked into the very face of death.” _Kami on a stick. People talk like this in real life?_

“Yeah, so?” He stopped dancing and folded his arms. “When did you ever look death in the face?” Because her ki gave no trace of anything of the sort.

She looked startled and disappointed, and strangely a little angry at his question. “Uh, well.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t think so. What drinks are good here?”

She answered his question briefly and moved off. What was that all about? The next one had curly blonde hair with brown roots and a magenta tiger-stripe. “Hey babe, you’re built. What kind of thing are you into?”

“I do martial arts.”

“Hey, me too!”

“What style?”

“Uh … heeheehee.” Poser. He got about the same results from the one in the leather corset and jeans, the redhead in thigh-high stiletto boots, the tall one in the latex catsuit and a dozen other less memorable girls. The lace zombie came by three more times, making ever more extravagant pronouncements of doom. She culminated with, “We face the imminent collapse of civilization. Our planet will be a shattered wasteland populated only by vagrants and scavengers.”

When he replied with, “Been there, done that,” she actually huffed at him before flouncing off. Did she think he was merely out-posing her? Was she jealous? There might be some entertainment potential there. Thirsty, he wandered back to the table where Gohan and Videl were sitting. 

“So what do you think so far?”

“Are there any serious people here?”

Videl giggled. “There are, but you won’t see them yet. They’ll wait until you show you’re not a player or a poser.”

“Some of the people we know have arrived, so we’ll introduce you,” Gohan added. “People who come for the dancing and atmosphere, like us.”

“It’s starting to grow on me.”

Throughout the evening Gohan’s friends dropped by their table; there were music fans, dancers, even one woman who made and sold some of the outrageous fashions on display there. She gave him a long look as she was introduced.

“You look a lot like this older guy who was in my shop the other day.”

“Huh? Hair like this,” he mimed Vegeta’s hair style, “wears spandex, acts like he owns the planet?”

“That’s him. You know him?”

“He’s my father. But what was he doing in your shop?”

“Well, he bought a pair of heels.”

The three Z fighters looked at each other. “Your father bought a pair of high-heeled shoes,” Gohan repeated. “I don’t want to know.”

“They really suited him though.”

“That is just way too much information.” Mirai gulped his drink. Just what were Vegeta and Kakarott getting up to? Although, now he was curious about that store.

***

The news of Kakarott and Vegeta’s relationship was all over the Z fighters in days, mostly because Kakarott refused to resume his “Goku” act. Most of them didn’t quite know what to make of it; when Dende was asked if he could confirm the rumors, he only blushed. Mirai didn’t care. High heels notwithstanding, his father was together with his foster father and all was right with the world. His newly rebuilt lab bubbled with half a dozen different projects, while his main terminal displayed the code for the new game engine he was working on. Also on his desk was a stack of CDs from bands he’d heard at the club, and one of them was playing on the sound system. Life was good.

That was where his father walked in on him one morning, as he was soldering chips onto a circuit board. He had the courtesy not to interrupt such a delicate task, but stood with his arms folded until Mirai set the soldering iron down. “Hey, Dad.”

“Son. Nice lab you have here.” Vegeta’s eyes fell on one of Mirai’s notebooks lying open on the desk. “You keep notes in Saiyan?”

“It’s better than any code.”

“Your spelling is better than mine.”

“He insisted.”

“He would.” Vegeta had acquired a new fashion accessory – a white leather collar. Mirai wasn’t going to think about the implications of that.

“You just checking up on me, or what?”

“I have to make sure you don’t embarrass the family name.” He pulled out the spare chair and lounged in it. “And besides that, in your timeline, if Kakarott claimed me right after you came back the first time, how did you ever get conceived?” 

“He’s that good, huh?”

“Better.”

“Well, Bulma wanted a child and the three of you decided that you should be the father. For another thing, that mating wasn’t as, uh, intense as this one looks.”

“Hn. We’re older. More history. There are things that happened with Buu … why didn’t she pick Yamcha?”

“Didn’t trust his genetics.”

Vegeta snorted. He picked up the notebook and leafed through it. “So what are you working on?”

“Buncha stuff. There’s the video game software, should be good for cash. Over there I’m trying to grow new ki sensor crystals. These are a couple of robots. #18 is going to help me with the software for those. I’m hoping they’ll –” Mirai’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the display and was startled to see “Unknown Caller.” He hit two keys to pause the music and bring up a trace program, then picked up. “Who are you and how did you get this number?”

“I’m sure you remember me,” a female voice replied. Ah yes, the Black Lace Zombie Queen.

“Not particularly. Should I?”

“I spoke to you several times at the Foxfire Club last week. Would you care to eat dinner with me?”

“No.” The computer screen blinked and threw up a message box. [trace complete.] It showed the number and a name.

“Why not?” the zombie queen whined. “Surely you see I have unusual resources, since I was able to find you.”

“Yeah, right. I bet you had a gadget at the club that scans people’s phones for numbers. Did you buy it, or build it yourself?”

“Um, well, I …”

“Did. You. Build. It. Yourself.”

“…no.”

“That’s why not. By finding me you have promoted yourself from annoying to amusing. No more. You’re not that good.” She spluttered into his pause. “A word of advice, miss Inujo. The best support for a pose such as yours, is to actually be what you claim.” He hung up.

His father smirked at him from across the room. “New playmate?”

“Kami, I hope not.”

#### Part 4: The Saiyans Are Coming

Fucking hell. Why couldn’t everyone just leave this bloody planet alone? It was _five_ spaceships this time, with only three days’ warning. Just when his life was coming to some kind of order. At least they were too defensive to be planetary conquerors, but the Z fighters were not taking any chances; they arranged to meet the ships as soon as they landed. Which was why they were all standing around in a valley in the middle of nowhere on this freezing cold morning.

He checked the set of his sword and made sure his cell phone was turned off. The last thing he needed right now was the zombie queen trying to call him. “Let’s go,” Kakarott said, and they were off.

When they sighted the spaceships, Mirai was close enough to hear his father’s comment: “Kakarott, those are Saiyan ships.”

Really? Mirai took a closer look. They were huge ships, and slow, designed for long-term occupancy. And they had seen hard use. As the Z fighters flew closer he could distinguish the figures swarming around them. Tails, check. Spiky hair, check. _I wonder if there are any girls down there._

Saiyans being Saiyans, their own presence did not go unchallenged for long either. A group of newcomers separated from the mass; Mirai was quite startled to hear Vegeta identify their leader. _That’s my grandfather? What the hell is he wearing?_

The encounter ended with an ultimatum from Kakarott and the two groups separated. But it wasn’t over; Gramps looked like the kind of person who couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business. Sure enough, not two weeks later Kakarott passed the word that he’d issued a challenge to King Vegeta. He could just guess the outcome of that. The only question was if Kakarott would bother to ascend during the fight or not.

Naturally the entire Saiyan population turned up to watch. Mirai was looking forward to checking out some of the Saiyan girls, until Vegeta roped him into guarding the perimeter. Fine, so they could check out his ass instead. He didn’t expect to be out here long. There was Kakarott, lounging calmly on a boulder. And there was Gramps in his lacquered armor and cape, bombastically announcing himself. “Kakarott! Are you still prepared to contest my authority?” 

“Yes,” was Kakarott’s simple answer. The fight, if you could call it that, didn’t take long. _What kind of idiot fights in a cape anyway?_ The only thing Gramps had going for him was that he wouldn’t quit even when he was totally outclassed. _I get knocked down, but I get up again_ … Mirai sang to himself. Ten times, twelve times – _he’s like a yo-yo. My grandfather, the yo-yo king._ He was even a sore loser – when Kakarott finally beat him down and stepped on his chest, the first thing he did was beg for his life. Pathetic. And then Kakarott revealed just how much he’d been holding back, by going gold.

All around him Saiyans dropped to their knees in awe. _Yeah, on the ground before your king, weaklings._ That wasn’t really fair, of course; the Saiyans were more powerful than average as a species. It wasn’t their fault he had a whole order of magnitude on them. He pulled his attention back to the proceedings in time to hear Kakarott say, “It’ll be a cold day in Hell when Vegeta needs anyone to protect him. He must take after his mother.”  
_I sure as hell hope so._ The old geezer got more embarrassing with every word that came out of his mouth. Fortunately at that point Vegeta flew down to Kakarott’s side and ascended as well, and then they kissed. That was enough to shut the old man up. It also sent Gohan into some kind of disgusted seizure, and Mirai made a note to rib him about it later. Kakarott flared all the way to level three, and the rest of his species drooled over the sight. Many looked disappointed that those two were claimed by each other. _Hmm. And Gohan has Videl – that makes the most powerful available Saiyan … me._ He started to laugh. This was going to be fun.

***

Mirai walked into Kakarott’s office and nearly fainted. Kakarott was bent over his desk, poring over a map with papers and notebooks scattered around, his tail looping idly behind him. It was like stepping back – or sideways – in time. He even had the vidscreen of family pictures on the desk, though the pictures were certain to be different.

He looked up as he sensed Mirai’s presence. “What?”

“Sorry, I’m just having the worst déjà vu. You look just like – you know.” He walked forward. “It’s even the same map.”

“I’ve had these since my trip around the world.”

“I know. How’s the king thing going?”

“Busy. I’ve had a representative from just about every guild, club, association and society in the colony through here. It’s a good thing I know the King of Earth; I asked him for some pointers.”

“Have you heard from the doctors yet? I want to see about re-growing my tail.”

Kakarott plucked a notebook from the stack and paged through it. “They were first in … here we are. Want me to call them?”

“I’ll do it, thanks. I won’t take up too much of your valuable royal time.” Kakarott snorted at that. Mirai copied the information to his phone. “I guess I’ll go find them after training.”

“Ah, could you give this to Vegeta?” Kakarott held out an envelope. Mirai didn’t want to know what was inside.

“Sure … my king.”

“Oh, give it a rest.”

Mirai suddenly leapt aside, barely avoiding being bowled over by the figure that barged into the room. It was Gramps, same cape and looking like he was about to explode. Of course, that was the usual expression for him. He marched up to the desk without paying Mirai the slightest attention; Kakarott merely laid down his pen and looked at him. “What can I do for you?”

“You – you – how _dare_ you expect me to submit to training under a half-blood tailless whelp?”

“I take it you’re referring to Gohan? He’s the only one in the family who isn’t likely to lose his temper at you, make you lose your temper or roast you for pure entertainment. Besides, after me and Vegeta, Gohan is our strongest fighter. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

The old man ground his teeth. “It is an offense to my position to train like a common soldier.”

Mirai crooked an eyebrow. “I wonder how you’ll feel when you get your ass kicked by those same common soldiers.”

“Mirai, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Kakarott stood up and walked around the desk so he was facing the old man nose to nose. “Train or not as you like, Vegeta-jii, but don’t expect to get the power without the work. Otherwise you could do something useful like helping me lay out the colony town.”

“I – hrm – I’ll get my notes.”

“Thank you, Vegeta-jii.”

The old geezer growled and retreated. Kakarott looked over at Mirai. “Don’t tease him too much.”

“So it’s ok to tease him a little?”

“Yes. Now get!”

“Yes, sir.” Mirai tossed him a mock salute as he left the room. He thought he’d given the ex-king a head start, but caught up with him within minutes. He matched the old man’s pace and rolled over, flying backwards with hands behind his head and ankles crossed. Vegeta-jii was cursing under his breath and sounded for once exactly like his son. “Might as well relax and enjoy it, Gramps. Kakarott is king over your ass.”

“How did you come to that ludicrous conclusion, half-blood?”

“First he kicks your butt, but doesn’t throw you out of his family. Then he asks for your help, and you agree. You totally see him as your pack leader.”

“I will never submit to a third-class barbarian!”

“You already fucking well did.”

“And why in heaven’s name are you flying like that?”

“Because I can. You should try it some time.”

“It’s an offense against dignity!”

“Dignity, shmignity. You need to lighten up, Gramps.” He looped the loop – backwards – and flew off towards his father’s ki.

#### Part 5: Being Prince Charming

Goten was sneaking up on him, he knew it although he couldn’t see it. Brat. Summer break at school, and what did he do the first day? Demand to try the beta of Mirai’s game before he had a chance to play it himself. They’d argued about it all bloody morning, making a mess of Bulma’s living room, until Kakarott walked in on them. He had ordered them to take it outside and fight a proper match. And when Kakarott got his king on, not even an unruly eight-year-old Super Saiyan could gainsay him.

A ki beam lanced out of the shrubbery and he blocked it. Pouncing on the source, he poured a rain of punches on Goten as he tried to get him in a headlock. But the younger Demi slipped out of his grasp and flew off, with him in hot pursuit. This was a total cramp in his plans and to make matters worse his butt had been itching like hell all day. Neither of them were going home until this was settled, one way or another. He went high to try to force Goten to the ground; the brat rolled over in midair and shot a Kame kame ha at him. He answered with a Big Bang. Goten dodged, and the blast went past him to the ground – and straight towards the Saiyan ki signature lurking there.

“Look out!” he yelled, and watched as the ki spark dived out of the way at the last moment. He followed the blast down. “Hey. You ok?”

“Yeah, thanks.” The newcomer was a Saiyan female, about his own age; her hair grew in a pattern of several short spikes over her forehead and two groups of longer spikes that swept backwards from behind her ears. It made her look like she had a bird on her head, but she had a nice tail. “I’m surprised any of the locals speak Saiyan, though.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not entirely local product. The name’s Mirai Trunks Vegeta Briefs.”

“You’re the Prince Consort’s son?”

“Yeah. What were you doing all the way out here?”

“Exploring. I grew up on the ships; I used to dream about running through the forest, but I never thought it would be so _big_. What are you doing out here?”

“Fighting my dear stepbrother. Goten, get out here, I know you’re there.” The younger Demi jumped down out of the branches and Mirai swatted him on the head. “Can you at least try to act like a prince?”

“So that’s the King’s youngest. What happened to your tails?”

“Chopped ‘em off!” Goten exclaimed, making slicing motions with his hands. Mirai nodded.

“We started fighting at a young age, and the tails were a liability. I saw the Saiyan doctors about growing mine back, but nothing’s happened so – ” The itching in his backside suddenly peaked, and then a tail suddenly flowed from the end of his spine. “I stand corrected.”

She stifled a giggle. “It’s purple.”

What color did she expect? He moved his new appendage experimentally; he hadn’t hd his tail since he was five years old, but the body didn’t forget. Then he had to flick it away as Goten made a grab for it. “Aw! I want my tail back too.”

***

“So you say your tail scar was itching since last night?” The doctor pored over his medical scanners, his own tail waving in concentration. “Did anything unusual happen to trigger your tail to grow?”

“Well, I ran into a Saiyan girl in the woods.”

“That would do it. Was she cute?”

“I guess. Damn, I didn’t get her name, either!”

The doctor chuckled, making his hair spikes shake. “Don’t worry, once your power level gets around, you’ll have to fight them off with a stick.”

“Are you making a pass at me?”

“How unprofessional. I’ll hit on you when I’m off duty.”

“Perv.”

“Looks like everything is in order, so you’re free to go. Be sure to come back if you have any problems.”

“You wish.” He climbed off the examination table and sauntered out through the colony ship. He still wasn’t comfortable with the attention of so many people, so he curled his tail under his jacket for the time being. Kakarott had set up a training program to teach all the Saiyans how to sense ki, and it wouldn’t be long before all of them could do it. Then things would get interesting. He patted his pocket; no doubt by now Goten was rifling his room looking for the game disk, not realizing that Mirai had it on him the whole time. The look on his face should be priceless. He decided to drop by his lab for his camera before confronting his brother.

That meant walking through the main atrium of Capsule Corporation, where he encountered a reminder that he was not the only one with an idiot relative. The participants: Videl and Mr. Satan. Videl was, oddly, dressed in one of her club outfits, and she had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m not taking this anymore. You can take your world championship and stuff it.”

“Please calm down, my child. In time you will come to see that I, your father, know best in such matters. These establishments are not suitable for a child of your age!” Mr. Satan held out his hand to her as though he expected her to be convinced by this. She snorted.

“As if. I’ve been a fighter all my life, and you’re not going to turn me into a foofy little princess doll just by wishing it.”

“My darling Videl, there is no need for you to fight at all! I, the World Champion of Earth, will defend you from all dangers!”

“Get real, pop. The only reason you keep winning World Tournaments is because none of the serious fighters bother to compete. You wouldn’t last two rounds against a Super Saiyan. And what’s your problem with nightclubs anyway? I’m like the most dangerous person there.”

“But just look at the influences you are exposed to! Creatures with strangely dyed hair and false body parts!”

Mirai gave him a flat look. “This is my natural color, dumbass. Want me to do something nasty to him?”

“I’ve got it covered, but thanks for offering. Nice tail.”

“Hn. I’m heading to prank Goten.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen!.”

He waved the camera over his shoulder in answer as he walked through the door. Behind him he heard Videl announce, “So that’s it, pop. I’m moving in with Gohan and you can’t stop me.”

“But … my house provides for your every need! What can you possibly lack?”

“You are _so clueless._ ” He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as he walked deeper into the residential wing. He lowered his ki as he went to avoid alerting Goten to his presence. The younger Demi had done no such thing, so Mirai could tell that he was, indeed, rummaging around in his room. He turned on the camera, then threw the door open.

Goten yelped, jumped so high he hit his head on the ceiling, and came down clutching his skull with a guilty expression on his face. “Mirai! I, uh – ”

“You’re not going to find it, Goten.” He pulled the data card out of his pocket. “It was right here all along.”

Goten’s jaw dropped. “Wha – but – d’oh!”

“And since you messed up my room, you can clean it up.” He shut the door without giving him a chance to respond, and headed down to the living room. He had a game to play.

***

The Saiyan village was the funniest thing. The houses, prefabricated pods from the colony stocks, looked like eggs with hats on. Originally they were plain grey, but with Earth money starting to trickle into the colony, the first thing the Saiyans bought was paint. Mirai walked through a village of easter eggs arrayed in neat rows and semicircles. He hated to admit it, but Gramps knew what he was doing in that department. Saiyans bustled around him and paid him no attention; his identity hadn’t gotten around yet. Just to confuse matters further, he was still wearing his tail around his waist with his jacket zipped over it, so he looked like a human. _It’s the hair color, I guess._ And so he got to overhear some highly entertaining conversations.

“The Prince would much rather have me than a motheaten furball like you!”

“Oh yeah? Like a prince would want an overripe oversexed harpy like you!”

“I won’t let you make a pass at him before I do!”

“You and what army?”

The two Saiyan girls were suddenly throwing punches at each other in the middle of the street, while he walked past not five meters away. _The Prince_ was him, since the other three princes were either taken or too young. _They’re actually fighting over me. This rocks._ On the downside, that behavior didn’t impress him with their intellect or willpower.

“What are you laughing at, bitch.” He glanced around and saw another female leaning against a tree. It was the same girl he had met in the woods. She smirked at them.

“I’m just thinking what a pair of dorks you two look like. Would you act like that if you were right in front of him?”

“Hell no!”

“Like you wouldn’t fight over him too.”

“I don’t think I’m going to impress him just by clobbering you two bozos.” As Mirai walked around the corner, the other two girls pounced on her.

“You’ll pay for that!”

“Catch me first.” The sound of shredding foliage followed him down the street. If the circumstances were different he’d have screwed half of them already. But as prince, if he picked a girl he’d better stick with her, because Saiyans definitely did not take or maybe not as an answer. He’d make his choice when he was sure. It was hard. In more than one sense – the Saiyan girls were _hot._ It was just his “luck” that his errands on Kakarott’s behalf took him through the colony on a regular basis.

When he returned to Capsule corporation he was surprised to see the girl from the woods sitting in the tree in the yard. “I see you’re not going around bragging that you know me.”

“What, and give up my inside edge?” She dropped out of the tree. “I’m just glad I kept a straight face back there.”

“Thanks for not blowing my cover. Who are you anyway?”

“Shiso, house of Targon. I’m a carpenter.”

“A carpenter?”

“Call me if you want a coffee table. I need something better to do in my spare time than eavesdropping, though. Got any advice?”

_Why is she asking me that? Unless …_ “If you’ve got Earth money, get a video game system. Gamestation is best. Hit a club or something. Or train more, you’ve got sticks in your hair.”

#### Part 6: When Relatives Attack

Videl was barely paying attention as the physics professor wrapped up his lecture. She could sense her father’s ki hanging around outside the building, waiting. Since she had moved out he had appeared at Gohan’s apartment to harangue them, so loudly that the neighbors complained, several times, and now he was stalking her at school. She didn’t really want to punch out her father, but it was getting to the point where she’d have to. No one could get into this building without a university ID, but she couldn’t sneak out without her father seeing her, either, even if she suppressed her ki.

“Next week I’ll cover shapeshifting and quantum fluctuation,” the professor concluded, and students started to gather up their belongings. Videl sat still. How could she get out of this without encountering her father? She opened her ki sense wide as she cast around for options. _Wait, I know that ki … is that Kakarott?_ She focused on that one ki source. It was – his ki almost completely suppressed, but unmistakable. _What’s he doing here?_ But that gave her an idea. She snatched up her bag and followed his ki to the source; he was in the library. She found him leaning against a window with an astronomy book in one hand.

“Hi, Videl. Classes over for today?”

“Yeah, and I need a little help. Could you give me a lift home?” 

“Sure. Does this have something to do with the way Mr. Satan is pacing in front of the doors?”

“Yeah. It’s creeping me out.”

“Let me check out this book, and we’ll go.” 

***

Mirai pressed the doorbell to Gohan’s apartment. He heard the chime within, and then the intercom came on. “ _What is it this time?_ ”

“That’s an unusual greeting,” he replied.

“ _Oh, Mirai, it’s you._ ” The door opened with Gohan standing behind it. “I thought it was Mr. Satan again.”

“Use your ki sense, numbskull. Has he been making an ass of himself?”

“He came around five times yesterday and twice today. I am this close to punting him across the city.” 

“I brought the detectors you wanted for your trip.”

“Right. Come on in.” Gohan’s hair was uncombed, he was wearing a rumpled gi, and he was limping a little. This business with Satan must be stressing him out – _wait, limping?_ They settled down in Gohan’s living room with cans of soda, the capsule opened on the table. Gohan checked through each device for proper function. “Looks You do pretty good work on short notice.”

“Please, don’t make it a habit. Oh yeah, and why are you walking funny?”

“You’ll have to ask Videl that.” Gohan smirked slightly. “Did you hear, Dad and Vegeta are going to tag along on my trip. They want to use the Namek Dragonballs.”

Maybe they could use one of the wishes to dump Vegeta-jii and Mr. Satan on an uninhabited planet. Though, Vegeta, Kakarott and Gohan – oh, to be a fly on the wall. “How soundproof is your ship?”

“That’s what I’m worried about …”

They had been chatting for about half an hour when Kakarott and Videl suddenly appeared beside them. Gohan immediately jumped to his feet. “What happened?”

“Pop is, like, stalking me,” Videl growled. “Good thing Kakarott was there, or I’d have had to clock him.” She gave a quick summary of her afternoon.

Some people didn’t know how to leave consenting adults alone. Speaking of which – “Videl, why is Gohan walking funny?”

Gohan turned red; Videl giggled. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

“He said to ask you.”

Kakarott grinned, then turned to Mirai. “Come with me for a minute, I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir. Later, guys.” The two of them walked up to the roof of the apartment block and took to the air.

“I take it Gohan told you about me and Vegeta joining his trip? I need someone to keep order while I’m gone. Guess who.”

“Crap.”

***

Not four hours after the announcement was made, Vegeta-jii came snarling into Mirai’s lab, tail bristling so hard it looked about to fly off. He stopped short when he spotted Mirai, though, probably because he had a Saiyan porn mag in one hand and his cock in the other.

“What part of _do not disturb_ don’t you understand?”

“You! You scurrilous half-breed dog! You inerudite, intemperate, insouciant degenerate! How dare you take the post of regent in my place!”

Mirai shrugged. “It was the King’s idea. Take it up with him if you don’t like it.” He turned the page. Double spread, in both senses of the word, very nice. Would the old man get anything out of this publication?

“It’s an offense against royal dignity! To appoint a puerile, scabrous whelp like you – stop doing that!”

“Why should I stop what I’m doing for your sake? Mmm, oh yeah.”

“Have you no shame?” Gramps’s face turned an alarming shade of purple. “Sulfrous, fucoid monstrosity! Raised on a barbarian planet with no concept of honor, even your fur color is unnatural!”

“Hey, at least I have a tail now, isn’t that an improvement over none? Mmrrrr, definitely an improvement.”

“That – I – you – arrgh! I demand that you cede the post of regent to me!”

“Make me. Oh, and before you call me inerudite, I understood every word you just called me.”

A wordless screech rose from Gramps’s throat and he lunged, but Mirai raised one finger from his magazine and shot a ki burst at his toes. The old man pulled up his foot to avoid it; amused, Mirai loosed more bolts, forcing him to do a little dance. “I’ll make you pay for this outrage, you cretinous poltroon!”

“There are two wankers in this room, but only one of us is enjoying it. You need a girlfriend. Or a hobby.”

The old man made one last inarticulate growl. “You haven’t heard the last from me, half-breed!” he hissed, then stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Mirai sighed. If aliens invaded while he was in charge, it would be less annoying than this. He turned the page. _I didn’t know Saiyans could bend that way._

***

The whole Saiyan nation had heard about the Prince’s fight with the lizards, and Shiso figured she had better remind him she existed before someone else beat her to the punch. She tracked his ki to his house and landed outside; to her surprise she saw a human girl walking in the same direction. She had never seen more lace piled into less skin area.

The human stared at her suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Shiso. Who are you?” And thank goodness she’d been studying Earth language.

“I am the whisper in the darkness, the unexpected shadow, the rain at summer’s end!”

“Sounds gloomy.”

The girl bristled at the response. _Oh. I think that was supposed to impress me._ The question was, did she make up the name herself, or was it a family tradition? “I am the hand that guides the darkness, and no one shall stand between me and the one I desire.”

“So you’re after the Prince too? If you want to fight me, you should change first. That outfit doesn’t look too practical.”

“Fight? I’m not a wild animal.”

“Well, there’s your first problem.” Saiyans were wild animals and proud of it. If she didn’t know that, she had no business pursuing the Prince.

Mirai chose that moment to come out of the house. He studied the two of them. “What are you doing here?”

Darkness Girl spoke first. “Now you see the extent of my capabilities: I have discovered where you live!”

He turned to Shiso. “You?”

“I heard you had trouble with aliens, so I brought you a snack.” She took the small dinosaur from her bag and held it out. Darkness girl stuck out her tongue.

“Ew. Who’d want to eat something like that?”

“Here.” Mirai held out his hand, and Shiso tossed him the carcass. He tore the tail off and bit into it. “Not bad. If you hadn’t noticed, Miss Inujo, your overblown statements aren’t impressing anyone.”

“Overblown? You’re the one who calls himself a prince.”

“I am a prince. You’ve got nothing, Inujo. Get lost.” He pulled a leg off the dinosaur and pointed it at Shiso. “Want some?” 

“Sure!” This was better than she expected. She caught the meat and waved it. “I won’t keep you from your work. Later.” She made a rude gesture at her competition as she walked away.

“Miss Inujo,” Mirai continued, “If you were any more fake you’d be plastic. When you’ve had everything you care for ripped away and destroyed, then you can wallow in angst if you like. I have better things to do.” The slamming door echoed down the street.

#### Part 7: Saiyans Gone Wild

Videl checked the address on her notepad and walked up to the pod house. This one was painted in blue and orange wavy stripes and purple dots, along with the popular motif of furry yellow comets. The latter apparently represented Kakarott’s highest transformation; people were using it as a good luck charm, of all things. She rapped on the door.

A young Saiyan woman opened it. “What do you – hey, you’re Prince Gohan’s mate, aren’t you? Uh, come in. What can I do for you? Unless you want me to stay away from Mirai, that is.”

“Quite the opposite.” Videl looked around the pod; Shiso lived by herself, and housekeeping style was always worth considering in a potential in-law. She liked what she saw. Neither a pigsty nor obsessively clean, the floor was navigable, and the pile of dishes was in the dishrack, not the sink. “Actually, I was going to invite you for some training.”

“And what kind of training does a Royal Mate offer the Prince’s suitor?”

Videl pulled the plastic case from her bag and plunked it on the table. “This. It’s Mirai’s favorite game in the whole wide world.”

“Is it now.” Shiso tilted her head. “Why are you helping me?”

“I like you. If you’ve managed to get as far with Mirai as you have, that’s good enough for me. You’re one of us already. We just need to convince _him_ of that.”

“Okay … my game system’s in the loft. Let me grab some snacks.” They climbed up, then Videl set up the game and walked Shiso through the first few rounds. Soon she was pounding buttons like a veteran. “So you really think I have a chance with him?”

“Better than a chance. I’m amazed he even gives you the time of day. He’s usually not so open with people.”

“He said something about a rough childhood.” Shiso’s avatar did a spin kick that launched Videl’s character off the side of the screen.

“You don’t know the half of it. Let’s change characters; I’ll play Kinomi, that’s his favorite.” They played a while longer as Shiso got the feel of the game. Videl had to admit she had quick fingers and a quick mind to go with them. Drop kick, spin kick, uppercut, jump attack – “Crap, how’d you do that? That’s the kind of stunt Mirai would pull on the dance floor!”

“Mirai likes to dance?” Shiso hit a key and her avatar punched Videl’s avatar on the chin, sending it backwards onto its rear.

“All the time.” Videl tapped a dozen keys in sequence and her character responded with a double roundhouse kick to the gut. “He goes out two or three times a week.”

“I have an idea.”

***

Mirai pulled on his leather jacket as he walked down the stairs, heading out for another evening at the nightclubs. This time he had on deep purple jeans, a darker shade of his fur color, and a silver shirt patterned with dragons. To accent his tail, he’d hung a silver medallion around its base. Many of his family members were out and about tonight; Bulma was out at a corporate benefit dinner, and the chibies were at baseball at the local shapeshifting children’s club. He also felt his (Saiyan) grandfather approaching the house on foot, but when he opened the door, he had to stop and stare. Vegeta-jii was wearing: two-toned shoes, knee socks, baggy plaid pants, a mustard-colored polo shirt, his cape and a green plastic visor.

“What the fuck?”

The ex-king drew himself straight. “Dr. Briefs has introduced me to a most interesting game of skill. I have determined that this is the proper attire for the activity.”

“Well, yeah, but …” Mirai looked him up and down. “You still look like a dork.”

“And you look like a man-harlot. Can you not attract females some other way?”

“At least I can attract girls. Good luck with that, gramps.” He stepped around the old man and out, leaving him snarling on the doorstep. He ran into Gohan on the way to the club. He was flying with his red trenchcoat fluttering in his wake. “Where’s Videl?”

“She said she was bringing a girlfriend. This might be her last night out before the baby’s born. She has the cutest maternity Lolita outfit though.”

“That’s a new style for her. And why didn’t you make that coat your Great Saiyaman costume?”

“It wasn’t compatible with the capsule system, curse the luck.” They landed about a block from the rest of the club and walked the rest of the way; though it was early, there was already a fair crowd. The staff had held their usual table overlooking the dance floor. “Looks like there are perks to being revealed as royalty. Are you going to move to Vegetasei?”

“I go where our dads go.” The club was rather dark tonight; he could barely make out people’s outlines. “And I’ll probably build a club there. Are you going to grow your tail back?”

“I went in for the treatment, but nothing’s happened yet.” They continued to make small talk; about half an hour later, Mirai sensed Videl’s ki, but he couldn’t see her. Nor could he see who she’d brought with her, although the ki was vaguely familiar. The music slowly faded and a new song began.

Suddenly spotlights stabbed down on the dance floor, revealing two figures: Videl and … Shiso! The Saiyan girl swayed gently, her tail swinging in time with the music.

Mirai’s mouth fell open and he leaned across the table. Shiso was clad in a gold halter top, black vinyl shorts with gold studs, and knee-high gold boots. A hand skimmed her side from breast to thigh, pointing out how much skin she was showing. After that she trailed her other hand slowly though her hair as she threw her head back. Mirai’s eyes went straight to the line of her throat. _If she were in grabbing distance, I’d give her a hickey the size of a coaster …_

Videl was wearing a silver confection of lace and satin, a layered skirt that went over her stomach and a top with puffed bows on each sleeve. She and Shiso swirled around each other in unison, displaying every angle to their audience. Trailing fingers – tracing a subtle neckline, the curve of a breast – highlighted each exquisite feature in turn. Proudly, blatantly showing off their bodies, but they seemed oblivious to anything but the music.

_Holy crap._ Mirai was about to fall out of his chair. Shiso was hot most of the time, but this – he had to have her. She was drop-dead, drool on the table, fight your rivals in the street sexy. He had mocked that behavior in others, but … other eyes in the club were on her, and as soon as he noticed, his tail puffed out like a bottle brush and his lips drew into a snarl.

Mirai heard a soft tearing sound. He glanced aside and saw that a tail had just sprouted from Gohan’s backside. The other Demi was staring at his mate, growling softly; Mirai could just guess what would happen as soon as those two were alone. The music ended and darkness covered the dance floor again. He lost sight of the girls, only to have them reappear right beside the table. Gohan already had his arms around Videl. “I am going to fuck you so hard Pan will wonder what the earthquake was.”

Videl giggled and grabbed his tail. “Ooh. Is this for me?”

“Hrrrrr … let’s go somewhere so you can unwrap it.”

“There’s a hotel right next door, you know.”

Meanwhile, Mirai had pounced on Shiso and was licking up and down the side of her neck. “Are you out of your mind?” she asked.

“Yeah. Completely.”

“Good. Let’s go check out this hotel.”

#### Part 8: Get A Room

The name of the hotel was Turtle Inn. When Mirai and Shiso reached the lobby, there was no sign of Videl and Gohan; nor was there any living attendant, just a vending machine-like wall display. Mirai stuck his credit card (civilization was great) in the slot, Shiso pressed the picture of a room, and a line of flashing lights appeared on the floor. Shiso led the way to their room; Mirai was not paying attention to much except her waving tail. It was a really nice tail. Long and silky. It was a luscious sable that picked up silver highlights from the overhead lamps as it looped and – he nearly ran into her without noticing that she’d stopped. She giggled. “This one’s ours.”

“Lead on,” he growled. The room Shiso had chosen had a jungle theme, complete with bamboo furniture, foam “ruins” and polyester palm leaves festooning the ceiling. That had to be a bitch to dust. He scooped up Shiso and tossed her onto the bed, then leapt after her. She yanked his head down for a kiss. Since Mirai had never tasted a female Saiyan before, the sweet spice made him go quite out of his head. He tangled his tongue with hers, seeking more of her unique flavor, while his hands groped for the clasp of her halter.

Suddenly she flipped them over so that she was straddling his hips. “Is this what you want?” She undid the halter and opened it out, revealing an expanse of – _oh, yeah …_ “You’re drooling, Mirai.”

“You’re delicious.”

She giggled again and twined her tail around his. _Holy crap!_ He bucked so hard that Shiso was tipped sideways onto the bed. Taking the chance to sit up, he peeled off his jacket and threw it over a stuffed parrot on the far wall. He wanted to stroke her, to fondle her, to lick, nibble, scratch – _feed her? Must be my instincts talking._ But the idea was oddly compelling. He jumped off the bed to look for the minibar.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Just a second.” He found it behind a wicker panel. He looked over the options: fried chicken? Wrong mood. Chocolate mousse? Maybe. Jungle Surprise? Sounds dodgy. Hmm, Lover’s Feast. That was a capsule with a picture of a large platter of canapés. Yes. He grabbed the capsule and brought it back to the bed. Shiso sat up to watch him. “What’s that?”

He opened the capsule. “Hungry?”

“Ooh, yeah.” She lay back on her elbows as he picked out a beef-and-vegetable roll and held it to her lips. She snapped it up and reached out for a cheese pastry. He licked it off her fingers. A purr rumbled through his chest; he chose a strawberry and held it in his teeth to offer it to her. They rolled across the bed, eating, purring, and discarding the rest of their clothes. Shiso’s female smell wafted up to Mirai’s nose; he growled as he pulled off her shorts.

“Rrr. Tasty.”

“What are you waiting for?” With that invitation he bent down to lick up her musky juice. Nothing ever tasted so good. Much better than human girls … he ran his tongue through her folds to collect every drop. She wriggled and squirmed under him, “Aaaaahoooooo … hey, get your ass over here.” He obligingly swung his body around so that his hips were over her face. A hot wet mouth close over his cock, and he lost track of the next several minutes. Mmmm, nice.

Both of them were startled out of their pleasurable haze by a massive surge of ki close by. Shiso asked, “What the hell was that?”

“Gohan.” Mirai turned around to face her.

“What was he doing?”

“This.” He flared into Super Saiyan. Her tail fluffed out.

“Hot damn! Lay it on me!” She ground her hips up into his.

“You talked me into it.” Mirai lined up his cock and sank into her, grunting at her heat. He drew back and thrust in again; Shiso moaned. He ran his hands over her skin as he moved in her, knowing his ki would tingle madly. He felt her inner muscles ripple. Then she wrapped her tail around his again and he lost whatever wits he had left. He roared, pounded into her, made the bed shake with his efforts; it was not much longer until he exploded. Shiso roared and shuddered under him as she came as well. He rolled off her and dropped his transformation. “Did I scorch the bedspread?”

“Nah.” She idly fingered his hair. “So does this mean we’re going steady?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Wanna do that again?”

“Uuuuugh. Gimme a minute.”

#### Part 9: Morning After

When Gohan and Videl finally returned to their apartment, they found Chichi waiting on the doorstep. She looked rather rumpled; her hair was sticking out in odd directions and her eyeliner was smudged. Gohan ran forward. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Gohan, where have you been? I’ve been waiting here all night!”

“I was out with Videl. Why didn’t you call me? I had my phone with me.”

She huffed. “No decent person stays out all night long.”

“Decency is overrated.” And sometimes, though he loved her, his mother simply didn’t make any sense. Behind them Videl unlocked the apartment and went in. Gohan maneuvered Chichi into the living room and sat her on the couch. He put the kettle on. “This was Videl’s last night out before Pan is born.”

“And what on earth is that?”

“My tail? It grew back last night.”

“You have to go get it removed right away!”

“After the trouble I went to to get it back?” He set out cups and saucers and tried to ignore his mother’s fearful look. It had come as a shock to Gohan to realize his own mother was afraid of him, when he’d never so much as said a harsh word to her. But he’d hit his growth spurt at sixteen, doubling his height in six months and his muscle mass in twelve, and she’d insisted he was old enough to have his own apartment. Around that time something hormonal must have kicked in, because Chichi’s scare tactics just … stopped working. 

“You’re turning out just as bad as your father,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He poured the water. “Why did you come to see us?”

“Goten didn’t come home yesterday either.”

“Huh? He and Trunks are on Vegetasei, camping with Bardock. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No! And just why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

“I thought you knew.”

The teacup flew at his head; he caught it gently and set it on the table. He suspected now would not be a good time to tell his mother that he, also, would be spending half his time on Vegetasei to help the resettlement. Not to mention that he and Videl intended to bring up Pan as a Saiyan more than a human. Videl slipped out of the bedroom with her bookbag over her shoulder, dressed in a university sweatsuit. She kissed him on the cheek. “Later, Gohan.”

As soon as the door closed, Chichi exploded. “You never listen to me! You spend all your time in sleazy bars, you consort with those horrible barbarian Saiyans, you never think about getting a normal job. How could you do this to me? You’ll come to a bad end and I’ll waste away in my old age. What kind of example are you setting for Goten?”

Gohan just raised his ki so her pummeling wouldn’t hurt him and held her as she vented. “It’s ok, mom. I do have a job, you know. Actually right now I have more work than I know what to do with.”

“If only you were normal, none of this would have happened.”

“So I’m glad I’m not normal.”

“Please, will you just get rid of that tail?”

“I’m not going to do that, mom.” He almost thought this would provoke another outburst, but Chichi seemed to have lost momentum.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Don’t blame me if this all ends in disaster.” She stood up and walked to the door.

“You can come by anytime, mom,” he called after her. From her point of view this probably did seem like a disaster; Chichi’s concept of happiness was a house in the suburbs, a wife who cooked and cleaned, and a nine-to-five desk job in a downtown office. Gohan could be Crown Prince, or the Saiyan Minister of Science, or the third most powerful fighter in the universe, but as long as he didn’t own a necktie his mother would consider him a failure. Recently he’d found he could live with that. _Does that make me a bad person? No, just an adult._ He put away the tea service and headed for the shower. He did, after all, have work to do today.

***

Since the Landing (as the history department had settled on calling it), his job at the university had been one thing: language lessons. Of the seven people who were fully bilingual in Terran and Saiyan, he was the only one with the time or temperament to do any teaching; recognizing a Herculean task when it came along, he had cannily started with the linguistics faculty. _Too bad we don’t have any of those imprinting machines they used on Dad. Make my job easier if I could dump a whole language straight into someone’s head._ Instead he was stuck as guinea pig doing translation exercises hurled at him by scholars on both sides of the language barrier.

His furious scribbling was interrupted by his cell phone. The caller: Videl. He snatched it up. “Videl! What’s happening?”

“Gohan! I just had a contraction!”

He shot to his feet, grabbed his bag and was out the door by the end of his next sentence. “Where are you?”

“Home. I’ll call everyone while you’re flying, and then you can take me to the hospital.”

“Deal.” He snapped the phone closed, called to the faculty receptionist that he was leaving, and rushed to the roof so fast that he sucked the air in behind him. Pan – ! He grinned as he launched into the air. Now there was a connection between humans and Saiyans that needed no translation.

#### Part 10: Hunting

The grass was darker than Mirai was used to, and looked slightly bluish in Vegetasei’s light. Mirai liked it; unlike Earth vegetation, it didn’t clash with his hair. He lay down in it, let it hide him. Shiso was a couple of meters to his left, but he couldn’t see her at all, the grass was so thick. Ahead and downhill from them he could hear their quarry: a herd of megabison, the Saiyans’ traditional staple prey.

A megabison stood three meters tall at the shoulder, with shaggy wool in colors ranging from golden-tan through red to brown and black. Although they were plant eaters they had ferocious dispositions; that was probably the result of eons of hunting by equally ferocious Saiyans. And they were armed. In front, two horns like a rhino’s grew from the nose, as well as bony spikes jutting from either side of the jaws; at the rear, a long tail ending in a club could whip around to strike any attacker. Even Saiyans usually didn’t hunt them alone.

Two people was pushing it, except that one of them was a Super Saiyan. Mirai focused on the animals’ faint kis. There – at the back of the herd, one ki faltered oddly; the animal had been sick, and was still under-strength. Shiso’s whisper filtered through the grass. “What do you think, the one on the left?”

The same one he’d picked out. “Yeah. Let me take a look.” He slowly raised his head above the grass. His coloration was an advantage here; the megabison didn’t connect purple with danger as they would spiky black. He stayed up just long enough to spot his target. Then slowly lowered himself. “It’s dark grey with a white hood marking.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

Mirai rose into a four-footed crouch and crept forward, an action as natural as walking. Instincts. Gotta love ‘em. Both he and Shiso moved without shifting the grass, leaving no sign of their passage. They split up as they approached the herd; Mirai headed to the left of the target animal and Shiso to the right. This took her upwind of the herd and they started to scuffle and snort. If the megabison had been females they would have bunched up to protect their young. But this was a group of males; they picked up their pace, lashing their tails in aggressive display. Because of this, though, their weaker quarry started to fall behind. Perfect.

Mirai spiked his ki twice and felt the answering signal from Shiso. Then he counted: one – two – three – now! In unison they leapt roaring from the grass. The grey megabison bellowed in alarm and tried to run, but they had it bracketed. By the time it tried to turn around, they were on top of it.

Shiso jumped inward to try to land a punch, but the clubbed tail drove her back. Mirai attempted a strike to the head and had to dodge a sideways jerk of the horns. A punch to the back of the head would take the megabison down easily – the trick was getting to it, and ki attacks were considered very bad form. They danced around the megabison for several minutes, getting in some minor blows but nothing critical; a laugh tugged at Mirai’s throat. No wonder this was the preferred prey of Saiyans, who loved nothing more than a challenge. Combat reflexes kicked in; he would test his opponent’s defenses for a weakness, and failing that, attack them directly to disable them. Shiso seemed to have the same idea. And they were wearing the megabison down; Mirai kicked at the animal’s flank, forcing it to turn. Shiso attacked from the front to try to get in under the horns; she got through, but the megabison whacked its head to the side and hit her with its jaw spikes. A red smear appeared on her shoulder.

Mirai’s vision blurred around the edges. _It hit my mate._ Flashing into Super Saiyan, he flew at the megabison with a roar. _The hairy bastard hit my mate._ One kick put the animal sprawling on the ground. _Nobody touches my family!_ He punched into the megabison’s flesh, again and again and – 

“Uh, Mirai, I think it’s dead.”

He looked up at Shiso, who was wiping her arm with a handkerchief. Then down at the megabison. Its skull was completely flattened, blood and other substances flung liberally about. He dropped his transformation.

“Kami, Mirai, overreaction much? You’re just lucky you weren’t fighting anything intelligent.”

But, it hit – he looked back at the megabison, and at Shiso’s little scratch. “You’re right. What the hell was that?”

“It’s sweet and all, but that kind of thing will get you killed.”

“Yeah.” Now he could feel that he’d taken a tail-club to the ribs; he hadn’t even noticed at the time. “I need to do some meditating.”

“I’ll say. How rough was your childhood?”

That’s right, he hadn’t told her yet. “Let’s fly back and get some drinks, it’s kind of a long – ” His cell phone rang, priority ring. “Hello.”

“Mirai.” Piccolo. What was it this time? “I’m only the relay on this; Videl’s gone into labor.”

#### Part 11: Birth

When Mirai and Shiso rushed into the hospital lobby, the receptionist took one look at their tails and said, “Son Videl, right? Suite 541.”

“Thanks.” Ignoring the elevators, the two of them pelted up the stairs. The whole family was there, and they were the last to arrive. Mr. Satan sat on one end of a sofa wearing a baseball cap that read #1 Grandpa and a giant foam hand. His wife was sitting on the other sofa with an arm around Chichi’s shoulders; Chichi was holding a teacup with a white-knuckled grip. Mrs. Briefs was handing out cake to the human Z Fighters. Bardock was trouncing Piccolo at shogi while Vegeta watched, quietly laughing his ass off; Bulma was head-down in a physics journal, and Kakarott was talking soothingly to the nurse. The chibies looked down at all of them from the top of a cabinet. “You’re late,” Goten crowed.

“We were out in the wilds of Vegetasei,” Shiso said.

Mirai added, “I think Piccolo called us last on purpose.”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes. You would.”

“Hmph.” Piccolo slammed a piece down on the board.

Bardock suddenly grinned. “Thanks, Mirai.” Piccolo scowled.

Mirai could sense Videl and Gohan in the room beyond. Videl’s ki was raised and it spiked rhythmically; there was a gaggle of low kis from doctors and nurses, plus a faint, fluttering ki that pulsed in time with Videl’s. Mirai looked at Kakarott, who nodded. The little ki spiked, wavered and settled into a steady glow. Kakarott announced, “There. She’s breathing on her own now.”

A wave of relief passed around the room. Mr. Satan leapt up shouting “Go, Pan, go!” Everyone else rolled their eyes. A minute later, the inner door flew open and the hospital staff piled hastily out.

“I can’t believe he threw us out,” the human physician complained.

“I warned you he would,” his Saiyan counterpart said. “He was surprisingly polite about it, considering.” She turned to Kakarott. “The little princess is doing fine, my king. Give your son a few minutes to get control of his instincts and you can go in.”

“I understand. Thank you for your help.”

The midwife bowed and followed her colleagues out. Everyone started putting away whatever they’d been using to pass the time; Goten jumped down and stuck his head in the door. “Is it safe to come in now?”

“Yeah, family is fine.” The tone of Gohan’s voice implied that if anyone _other_ than family tried to go in, they would find themselves going right out again. Possibly head first. Of course Goten and Trunks were first through the door; as the rest of the gathering filed in, Mirai could hear them chant, “Pan, Pan, she’s our man, if she can’t do it, no one can!”

Videl lay back against the bed’s headboard, looking both exhausted and delighted; Gohan stood beside her with his arms crossed, a familiar expression on his face. _Touch my family over my dead body._ The other Gohan had had that exact look the last time Mirai had seen him alive. He shivered. Pan was a black-and-pink bundle in her mother’s arms, her tiny tail wrapped around Videl’s wrist. She was suckling drowsily from Videl’s breast while Videl laughed at the chibies, who were waving around giant mylar pompoms. “Mirai! Shiso! You made it!”

“You don’t think I’d ditch my first niece’s birth, do you?”

“Nah. Where’d you get the scratch, Shiso?”

“A megabison nicked me. Then Mirai went ballistic and flattened it.” She gave him a sideways look.

Videl sighed. “Don’t inflict your post-traumatic stress on your girlfriend, Mirai.”

“We were just about to discuss it when we got pre-empted. It can wait.” 

At this point Chichi emerged from the press of taller bodies. And the fool woman had to exclaim, “She has a tail! This is terrible!”

All the adult Saiyans bristled, but Videl just laughed. “Don’t be silly, Chichi, it’s adorable. Just like her father.”

Chichi frowned. “Gohan, did you really throw out all those doctors?”

“Well, once their work was done they had no more business here.” Mirai and several others nodded in agreement.

“Why did all of these men have to come anyway?”

“It’s a Saiyan thing.” Kakarott laid a hand on her shoulder to guide her out of the way. “Come on, you’re making Gohan feel bad.” Mirai covertly rolled his eyes. They couldn’t really keep her away from her own granddaughter’s birth, but still …! Over the next hour or so, all of the family stepped up to the bed to offer their congratulations and agree that Pan was, indeed, very cute. Mr. Satan left his foam hand on the bedside table (“You are so strange, Pop”), and Bardock presented a fur blanket, saying, “I made it myself.” (“Thank you, Bardock). Vegeta looked down at her with crossed arms: “got a good grip there, does she?” (“Yes, she certainly does.”) Kakarott just stood back and watched the proceedings, grinning.

Mirai and Shiso eventually slipped away, ending up in a hole-in-the-wall yakisoba joint near their club. They found places on the bench and collected bowls of noodles; Mirai toyed with his chopsticks. “You know, I’ve seen Gohan die? And Kakarott, and Bulma.”

“Huh? But …”

“Yeah. Have you ever wondered why Trunks has the same name as me? I’m not actually from this universe. I’m a time traveler.” He told her the whole story, the androids, the time machine, everything. “I finished the second time machine and came here,” he concluded. “The rest you know.”

Shiso slurped her noodles. “I’m amazed you’re functional at all after that.”

“That’s debatable, you know.”

“No, really. Saiyans are so social, there are lots of cases where people went off their heads completely. The planet-purging operation was really bad for that – even with the programming, a lot of the soldiers were so irrational they had to be put down. Nobody’s sad to see that one discontinued. And even if you don’t go nuts, you might end up with some weird neuroses and stuff.”

It sounded like an urban legend – but then Mirai considered his father’s hang-ups about trust, Kakarott’s childhood fixation on the four-star Dragonball, his own outbursts while fighting his enemies. He chewed on a piece of cabbage. “So … do you mind that I’m a little cracked?”

“Not at all.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his ear.

#### Part 12: Improvements

Gohan had taken to spending time at Capsule Corp; it was quiet, and convenient to both the university and the portals, which he used several times a week. So Mirai was not surprised to find him in the drafting studio, his daughter in one arm and a textbook in the other. His tail flicked thoughtfully as he scribbled a note in the margin.

“You’ve got the little princess. How will you feed her when she wakes up?”

“Don’t drink that milk in the break room fridge.”

“So that’s why it tasted funny. Just kidding. Where’s Videl?”

“At a spa, taking a badly needed rest. Bulma got her a reservation.” He stroked his daughter’s hair. “So Pan is helping me with my research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what happened on Pan’s birthday. Piccolo had to actually go through the portal to call those of you on the other side. That’s just not practical, especially once we get more traffic through the gates. I’ve been trying to find a way to put a data link across.”

“Hn? I don’t think you could use a cable.” Mirai pulled out a stool and grabbed a sheaf of sketches.

“Yeah, it’ll have to be laser-based. I think I can get them small enough to attach to the portal frame …” They put their heads together over the diagrams for several hours; Mirai ended up agreeing to build the prototypes. Pan slept through the whole thing. 

***

Mirai landed outside the portal mountain. He didn’t know what it was with Porunga and caves, but on each of the three worlds the portals were in one. A small building was going up over the cave mouth to serve as a gatehouse, and a steady stream of aircraft were dropping off crates of capsules bound for Vegetasei. Buying stock in Capsule Corp had been a real good idea. 

He walked past the construction and into the cavern. Here on the Earth side they’d had to relocate a colony of bats; now the floor was clean and tiled, and electric lights hung from the ceiling. Gohan leaned out from a scaffold on the Namek gate, using his tail for balance as he adjusted the device clamped to the top of the frame.

“A little to the left – there, hold it.” His Saiyan assistant used a tiny wrench to fasten the unit in place.

“How’s it hanging?” Mirai called.

“Well enough. Did you know you can’t drill a hole in these things? I had to make a set of clamps.” He tapped a pair of metal bands looping around the frame. “At least everything else works like it should.”

“It had better.” He’d spent long enough building them: six laser arrays, two for each planet, each with ten beams, and three servers to control it all. He’d gone to #18 for the software, since the woman was (literally) a natural with code; er programs never crashed, hung up or did anything bizarre. 

He noticed another device, this one set on the floor at either side of the portals with rounded corners extending up onto the interface. “What are those?”

“Vegeta built them; I guess he didn’t want to be outdone by us youngsters. It shoots capsules across the gap with magnets. We haven’t got it running yet.”

“That should make my life easier.” He thought of all the times he’d had to hand-carry capsules across for his projects. He’d found a publisher for his game, and he was building a capsule house for him and Shiso to use on Vegetasei. And he was planning to open a nightclub there, too, as soon as he did some research.

#### Part 13: Missing

Using a pencil was a departure for Mirai. Most of the time he used vector and CAD programs or 3D rendering software to lay out his projects, but here he was, scribbling his latest ideas on actual paper with actual graphite. Barbaric, that’s what it was. But he’d tried the computer and he just couldn’t get the right effect with it.

His nightclub project was coming together; he figured the Saiyans his age could use some entertainment and a place to dance. Shiso thought it was a great idea. Actually, she wanted to help build it, and that meant one thing: wood, lots of it. Shiso had brought a box of samples from her workshop, which now lay scattered on his worktable; he’d never thought much about wood in the past, and he was amazed at the variety of colors and shapes in her collection. Shiso already had plenty of ideas already, so he listened to her chatter on about the humongous burl she’d found in the woods, which she wanted to hollow out and use as a DJ station. Of course, he’d find just about anything fascinating as long as it was coming out of her mouth.

They were back at Capsule Corp for the day since Mirai was taking his turn as Saiyan liaison. It was much the same work as his earlier stint as regent, only with longer waits between idiots. He could live with that. And what should he name his latest venture? The Royal? The Prince? Purple Rain? Uh, no. Maybe something on the wood theme – Xylem? No, too geeky.

Shiso noticed he’d stopped drawing and was tapping the pencil on his nose. “Just call it Tree of Life.”

“Most demented tree I’ve ever seen.” But he scribbled the name in the top corner. He turned to a new sheet and started laying out the dance floor. It had to be vaguely rectangular, but he wanted to avoid sharp corners … he added some bumps and curlicues, then feathered the edges to look like the lightning-struck chip near his elbow. “How’s this?”

“Nice, you can even see the grain. Here, I had an idea for the barstools.” She showed him the sketch, which looked like a column of twisted branches. “They’ll have to be metal, but …”

“No problem. I’ll scan these in and make a mold – ” He was interrupted as Videl came into the room. She looked pale and wild-eyed.

“Do you guys know where Pan is?”

“No – why, is she missing?”

“I put her down for a nap and went to get some sleep myself. And when I woke up – her ki’s so quiet when she sleeps, I can’t pick her out of the crowd.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.” Mirai went to his computer; his prototype ki detector could distinguish humans from Saiyans, but there were so many people in the city that the search would take ages. At the same time he accessed building security to see if he could find video of who had taken Pan out. The trouble was that not just anyone could waltz in and out of Capsule Corp; it had to be someone they knew. Mirai growled under his breath. _Not my family, never again._

They spent several tense minutes searching, and then Mirai’s cell phone rang with the tone that said it was an official call. They always came at the worst times. “Saiyan Liaison Office, and make it quick, I’m in the middle of a situation.”

“Does it involve a missing baby girl?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. “Now you have my complete attention.” And if he didn’t like what he heard, it would be very bad for the caller’s health.

“My name is Dr. Ivanov at Satan City Hospital. Several minutes ago two humans brought the child in, claiming to be her grandparents and asking to have the tail removed. We get that sometimes with infant shapeshifters, but it was fairly obvious the child was Saiyan. I called you as soon as I could dig up your number.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t do anything until I get there.” He snapped the phone shut and, disdaining the door, jumped right out the window. Videl and Shiso were right behind him. While they flew Videl called Gohan, who was on New Namek (and thank Kami tthey’d installed those relays), to explain what was going on. He heard her say, “Mirai’s on it,” and knew he was working under a time limit. He’d better have this situation handled before Gohan caught up with him, or the older Demi would have his hide.

A very nervous nurse was waiting for them on the hospital steps. “This way please, sir and ma’ams.”

“Videl, is that you?”

“Mom?” Indeed, Mrs. Satan was coming up the steps, holding a small computer. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping track of your father. When he lands in the hospital I think it best to investigate.”

Videl, Mirai and Shiso all looked at each other. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

They followed the nurse to a room at the back of the hospital, where a remarkable scene greeted them: Pan, sleeping serenely on an examination table while a solemn doctor waved a stud finder over her as if he was doing something useful, while Mr. Satan and – sadly not so surprising – Chichi sat watching. They both jumped guiltily as the younger cohort came in.

“Pan!” Videl called softly, and scooped up her daughter from the table. She glared at Chichi. “How dare you?”

Chichi rocked back and then suddenly burst into tears. “I just wanted Pan to have a normal life! I just wanted her to be normal and Mr. Satan said he had a way.” She looked so pathetic that Mirai couldn’t stay angry with her. Well, maybe a little angry, but he lost the urge to punch her lights out.

Videl turned to her father. “And what’s your excuse, Pops?”

He puffed out his chest. “It is my honor to make sure that no members of my family suffer from aberrations.”

“Aberrations?” Videl screeched. Pan stirred, and she paused to calm her. Meanwhile Mrs. Satan walked up to her husband and slapped him.

“You know perfectly well that tails are normal for one of Pan’s species. And what if one of our children had been a shapeshifter, eh?”

“I assure you, my dear – ”

“We will be discussing this,” she promised. “Videl, would you like a turn?”

“Thanks, Mom.” Videl passed Pan to Shiso, wound up, and punched her father in the chin. He slammed backwards into the wall.

“This seems to be under control,” Gohan said from the door. He held out a hand to Shiso, who immediately gave Pan to him. He looked her over to make sure she was undamaged; Mirai gave a sigh of relief when he seemed satisfied. Then he looked at Chichi. “Do you really think so little of me, mom? Do you think so little of Dad?”

Chichi just cried harder. Gohan sighed. “Mirai, would you mind taking her home?”

“All right.” Actually he did mind, but he knew better than to piss Gohan off at a time like this. He took Chichi by the elbow and led her out, Shiso walking at her other side; Mrs. Satan preceded them, dragging her husband by the ear.

“You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Hercule.”

“My – ow! – dear, I …”

“Hush now.”

Mirai flew Chichi’s plane home while the harpy flung herself on (a very startled) Shiso, wailing. Shiso awkwardly patted her shoulder. “I’m sure Pan will grow up big and strong, just like her mother.” She rubbed Chichi’s ears as if she were another Saiyan, and oddly it seemed to work. “Uh, she’s not a normal person, I don’t think she’d be happy with a normal life.”

“B-b-but … Goku’s so serious now, and Gohan’s gotten so big, I don’t know what they’re going to do. And Goten spends all his time with Bardock – why won’t anyone listen to me?!”

“Because you’re not making any sense,” Mirai said. Fortunately Chichi’s house was close by; he didn’t think he could stand more of her whingeing. He could just imagine what Kakarott would say when he found out, too. The King was supernaturally patient with his ex-wife, but this escapade should earn her a few stern words.

#### Part 14: finale

The invitation wasn’t anything unusual; over the last couple of years Mirai had gotten used to family parties being called at the drop of a hat. But he wasn’t expecting Kakarott to say, “Why don’t you bring your girl with you this time? I’d like to meet her.”

Mirai just nodded, but Shiso’s reaction when he told her was more dramatic. “You want me to meet the king? And have dinner with him? Me?”

“Yes, you. Besides, you already met him at Pan’s birthday.”

“Not to talk to, and – he’s the fricking king!”

“So? You knew who my family was when you started chasing me, right?” Mirai could tell she really did want to go, she was just nervous about the idea. Well, in the time of Gramps’s stuffed-shirt upper-crust nose-in-the-air court, she would have had reason to be. Things had loosened up a lot since Kakarott became king.

The next issue was what to wear. Shiso was bound and determined to make a good impression, and he had to remind her several times that Kakarott usually dressed in a bright orange gi. Fashion sense was not one of his strong points. Shiso eventually decided on leather shorts, a halter top and boots. She asked how she looked and then said, “I’ll take your drool as a good.”

Mirai wiped his mouth and picked up the watermelons that were their contribution to the picnic. Shiso chattered brightly as they flew to Kakarott’s house, but he could tell she was still nervous because her tail kept curling around her waist, and her ki was spiking to life-or-death-combat levels. They landed at the picnic field early, before most of the family arrived; Kakarott was bent over the fire pit raking the coals with a trowel, while the tarp-wrapped main course lay ready beside him. He looked over at them and spun out a tendril of ki to Mirai.

< I’ll give her a while to settle down, and then I’ll call you over. Not that I’d mind a spar with her. >

< Hands off, king. >

< Ha. You know I don’t swing that way. >

Bardock was carting around cases of drinks, a bartender’s wreath on his head, and Vegeta was setting out furniture. Or at least he was supposed to be; at the moment he was balancing a picnic table on his index finger by one corner. Goten and Trunks were playing tag in the lake. And Chichi sat nervously in a wicker chair off to one side.

“What’s she doing here?” Shiso said.

“Penance.” Kakarott’s response to Chichi’s escapade with Pan had been … original. Rather than shutting Chichi out of his life or forbidding her to see her granddaughter, he had insisted that she attend these family gatherings whenever possible. And anyone who looked at her face could see that it wasn’t an exercise of mercy on Kakarott’s part. Other guests were arriving: the Briefs family, Vegeta-jii in his golf outfit, a handful of Z fighters, Mrs. Satan with Videl, Pan and Gohan, Piccolo. Just about everyone, really. Mirai didn’t miss the way Shiso’s hands tensed defensively. “Mirai, your father’s staring at me.”

“He hasn’t tried to set you on fire yet, that’s a good sign.” Still, he led her over to a big tree where she could have something at her back. The defensive position, plus the smells of food and cheerful voices, helped her calm down. He’d had to do the same thing at his first few barbecues.

An argument broke out over by the drink stash, which Bardock had constructed by filling a rowboat with ice and bottles. Gramps was glaring at him purple-faced. “Do you expect me to drink this swill?”

“Nah. If you don’t like it you can try water. Or warm milk.”

“I demand a refreshment suitable to my station!”

“Are you sure, old man? Considering your new career in sewage management.” Gramps spluttered, and Bardock leaned back on the rowboat bench. “Plain old beer is good enough for the King, so what’s your problem?” Gramps took a bottle and stomped off in a huff; Mirai flipped him off behind his back. A bit later Kakarott seemed to notice them standing by the tree – Mirai wasn’t stupid enough to think he hadn’t been watching them the whole time. “Mirai, come here,” he called. Shiso looked ready to faint, run or commit homicide, but Mirai pulled her along by the elbow.

“Hello, sir. I’d like you to meet my mate, Shiso.”

Kakarott lit up with his trademark grin. “It’s a pleasure, Shiso. Welcome to the family.”

“It’s an honor, uh, sir.” She fairly radiated confusion, and Mirai could guess what she was thinking. It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? He remembered having a few moments of that himself. Kakarott gave him an amused look and aimed a purr at both of them.

“You’ll be fine. Hang on and I’ll cut you some steaks.” As he stuck a fork in the roasting carcass, Vegeta strolled over to examine them.

“Nice melons.” Shiso’s brows lowered … until she realized he meant the watermelons, which she was carrying. She lobbed them at his head. 

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to my melons, creep.”

“You’ll do, girl,” he announced, and caught them. “Settling down already, boy? You make me feel old.” 

“You, old? Pull the other one, dad.”

“Yeah, if you’re old, what does that make me?” Kakarott added.

“The fountain of youth.” Vegeta started nibbling on his mate’s shoulder. Mirai and Shiso took their meals back to the tree to eat; now that she had gotten through meeting the King alive, Shiso was much more relaxed. As they ate, Mirai looked over the gathering.

Two years ago, by his internal clock, he’d had nothing. Now – he had his family, a mate of his own, and a place to call home. Things had turned out – dare he say it – pretty darn well.

Shiso elbowed him. “You’re quiet this evening.”

He smirked at her. “I know a nice cliff. Wanna go climb it?”


	10. Omake 5: Who's Topping Who?

Kakarott has that look in his eyes, the one that says I’ll end the night with my soul deep in his clutches and my body wrung out with pleasure and pain. I can hardy wait. As I clear the supper dishes away, he says, “Would you like to try something _different_ tonight, Vegeta?”

Hunger. Bloodlust. Anticipation. Fear. “I would be a fool to decline.”

“Good.” He sits in his armchair, more like a throne; I kneel beside him and lay my head on his thigh. And then, after throwing me a tease like that, he makes me wait. And wait. For more than half an hour he sits, doing nothing but trail his fingers through my hair. Which is hardly unpleasant, but my curiosity is driving me insane. And knowing that behind that gentle touch, he’s planning new ways to dominate and claim me … At length, Kakarott’s hand stills, and he tilts my face up to look at him. “Ready?”

“Of course.”

“Go and get your ki restraints. And lose your clothes while you’re at it.”

And so it begins. A familiar ritual to begin the evening: stand up, turn. Walk up the stairs to the master suite, pause by the hamper to peel off my clothes; take the steel cuffs from their place of honor on our headboard. These shackles have one meaning, and one meaning only: I belong to Kakarott, body and blood, mind and soul. He may do as he pleases with me. Turn again, tail already curled into submissive posture, and carry my burden back down the stairs to where Kakarott is waiting for me. I kneel at his feet and offer them to him.

Tonight he doesn’t take the restraints from me as he usually does. “As I said, this will be different. This time, I want you to put these on me.”

_What?!_ “What?!”

His compassionate, implacable gaze bores into me. “Because I trust you, Vegeta.” Trust. That one word falls like a hammer on my soul; a tiny piece of my mind squeals that I don’t want this trust, can’t handle this trust. And that is the horrible truth, that Kakarott trusts me more than I trust myself. He holds out his wrists in front of me. I swallow, hard, and open the latch on the first cuff. I close it around his arm, open the second one and close it around his other wrist. His ki fades away; he has placed himself in my hands, leaving no way to defend himself. I bow my head against his knees and wait for his command.

“Let me stand,” he says. I move back enough for him to rise. “Follow.” He walks to the two posts at the side of the room, throwing his clothes aside as he goes. I walk just behind him as though drawn by a magnet. He stands naked between the posts, facing the mirrors lining the wall, and gives the order I half expect: “Chain me.”

With shaking hands I hook the steel chains to his wrist shackles, then to his ankles. He looks stunning as he stands with his shoulders flexed, his tail relaxed and still. No anxiety shows in his face. Ki-bound, chained; I am rarely frightened in these scenes with Kakarott, but right now I’m terrified. Terrified of what he will ask me to do next. 

“Vegeta. Go to the box on the mantel and take out what you find there.” I move without thought, lift the lid, and there it lies. The Whip. I feel faint. No! I will not collapse. I am responsible for Kakarott’s safety; I must remain alert. But … how can he allow me to strike him? I, who once swore to kill him. I, who have ravaged dozens of planets single-handedly. I’m not as good a person as he thinks I am. I’m … not …

“I know you know how to use that, Vegeta. See if you can make me scream.” My chin comes up. My back straightens. I will be worthy of this honor, because Kakarott so desires it. I will do this, because Kakarott commands. I step up behind him, measure the distance with my eye, and let fly.

The leather strand strikes him square across the back, just below the corded shoulders. His head tilts back and his lips part; he makes a sound, too loud to be a purr, too soft to be a shout. I can see his face in the mirror – and now I understand what Kakarott sees when I am in pain. He surpasses me, I’m sure. Not even I could match such shining magnificence. “Again,” he growls. “Continue.”

I obey. Finding the rhythm of the whip, I rain down stripes across his back, his upper arms and his thighs. He is enjoying the pain; his purr echoes around me and I can see his shaft stiffening. He glows in the setting sun like a statue cast in gold. All my previous doubts are gone; I am in a familiar place, calm and secure: Kakarott trusts me. I cease to exist except as a hand carrying out his will, an eye taking in his beauty. Someone’s chest heaves with breathing; someone’s skin beads with sweat. The whip rises and falls, filling the air with the music of Kakarott’s voice. 

Some time later when the sky has grown dark, he speaks again. “Slower.” And then, “Enough.” The whip falls to my side and I wait. Then he commands, “Release the chains, and come to me.”

I hit the shackles’ quick release, embedded in the whip handle; the chains drop away. And … his ki swirls out around him, like a sparkling typhoon. I drop the whip and rush to him, drop to the floor at his heels and cover his feet with kisses. I’m about to burst with pride and gratitude. Kakarott allowed me to hurt him. He is pleased with me. And I’m touching him. No other Saiyan is as fortunate as I.

Suddenly Kakarott seizes me by the collar. He lifts me up until we’re face to face, with my legs wrapped around his hips. His arms encircle my back, holding me up; his lips close on my throat, nibbling and sucking. Surely this is the moment of my death. No mortal being could possibly contain all the blessings that Kakarott is pouring into me. I moan, I writhe, I dig my fingers into his shoulders. Noises turn into words, a constant whispered chant: “Do it, take me, do me, more …”

He lays my back against a post, and impales me. I am flung into the mindless space of sound and sensation that only Kakarott can take me to. He growls against my neck, which is enough in itself to bring me to the edge. He wants me. He desires me. He is heat and force and overwhelming power. I can’t name the thing that finally finishes me; it could be any one of a dozen scents, sounds, points of contact. My voice fails first; I fall silently into my climax, and then my world goes dark.

I wake up in our bed with Kakarott wrapped around me. “Please tell me I didn’t just dream all that.”

“If you mean that I made you flog me and then screwed you senseless, no, you didn’t dream it.” He nuzzles my ear.

I lean back into his touch. “That was intense. Thank you.”

“Thank you too; you have a good arm.” He pulls me closer against his chest. “Can you handle doing that again sometime?”

“…. Yes. It will be my pleasure.”


	11. Pure Evil 5: End of Evil

#### Part 1: Through the eyes of others

Sehji trailed after the four-year-old princess, trying to make as little noise in the underbrush as possible. After living all his life on starships, he was still getting used to the idea of forest; Princess Pan had no such trouble, and was likely to vanish if he let his eyes off her. That was not surprising considering her family, since the King and his sons were (to Sehji’s eyes) supernaturally talented woodsmen. It took some of the sting out of not keeping up with a little girl.

Pan popped up right beside him. “Sehji! I wanna see the river!”

“You know you’re not allowed to go there, little one.”

“I’m a princess and I say river!” She stomped her foot. Sehji was unmoved.

“Your father’s a prince, and he’d skin me alive if I let you do that.”

“Aww.”

To be honest, fear of punishment was the least reason that Sehji followed Prince Gohan. He still vividly remembered the first time he’d seen him, when Gohan had rid him of the Tuffle possessing his body. His mind had suddenly cleared and he looked up into smiling blue-green eyes with a purr of welcome behind them. He was rescued! He was free! He knew at once that he was safe with this powerful being, and submitted to the claim. Then he watched Prince Gohan turn around and claim all ten of his pack brothers; a feat that, as far as he knew, was not imagined in even the greatest Saiyan epics. Gohan treated all of them like family, and he wore his collar with pride.

Pan turned her steps away from the river, to Sehji’s relief. The sabercrocs lurking there would happily make a meal of him, let alone her. Instead, the Princess declared, “I’m hungry,” and started walking back towards the clan keep. Currently they were piled like rodents in a single capsule house: the Prince, his mate and daughter, the eleven claimed clansmen, and five of their younger siblings, nineteen people all together. Fortunately that was a temporary measure. Not long after bringing them all home, Prince Gohan had rounded up a number of architects and historians and started construction of his own clan fortress, the first on Restored Vegetasei.

Sehji flicked his tail. He was living in a world of legends: where there were Super Saiyans around every corner, where magic dragons granted wishes to the courageous, where a planet was blown to pieces and resored, and the King returned from exile on the night of the full moon. The Princess didn’t think it odd that half of her relatives had been dead and revived. Nor did she think anything of stepping through a portal to another world to visit her grandparents. It made Sehji’s head spin.

As the Prince’s second and leader of the clansmen, he was right in the thick of everything. In fact, as much of a handful as the Princess could be, watching her was as good as a holiday compared to his usual workload. That was probably why the Prince had told him to do this today – he wouldn’t dishonor Sehji by suggesting he rest when everyone else was busy from dawn to dusk. In his mind, though, Sehji admitted he was weak enough to need it. The castle was just days from being finished and he would be even more busy in the interval. 

Pan jumped up on his shoulders. “Fly home!” she demanded.

“Okay, princess.” Sehji sailed into the air. Open sky – another delight the Royal House had brought to him.

*** 

Vegeta the Elder of the House of Vegetasei, formerly King of all Saiyans, surveyed the elders seated around him. These were the leaders that he had chosen for the new Saiyan nation – ship captains, scholars, men and women who had supported him for decades. “Thank you all for coming,” he began. “I have asked you here to discuss our … concerns about Vegetasei’s current leadership.”

Nods around the table. “I will note,” said Captain Berjiin, “that Kakarott won the crown in a legitimate duel. Our courses are limited.”

“True. But he has no leadership experience at all, and I fear he is making a grave error in ignoring our accumulated skills.” They made agreeing noises, as he knew they would. All of them had been passed over in favor of half-bloods and children; fifty years of hard work deserved better reward than that. This Kakarott had basically abolished the old class system, turned society on its ear, put a pirate in charge of the Navy and put him, Vegeta of the House of Vegetasei, in charge of sewage management. _Sewage management!_

“What is your plan?” asked one of the scholars.

“We must bring his attention to his areas of ignorance, particularly in decorum and the dignity of the ancient houses.” Including his own, he thought with clenched teeth. It made him livid to see his own son – his own flesh and blood – draped at that barbarian’s feet like a common village-square harlot. And the boy had the almighty gall to be proud of it! He went on, “I also have grave concerns about the King’s mental health; persons of Kakarott’s background are not known for their stability.”

Widened eyes and nods around the table. All of them had seen purging soldiers too damaged to live normal lives; the reminder that Kakarott was one such shocked them. With that, Vegeta the Elder knew that he had secured their cooperation. “As this is an introductory meeting, let us consider our resources before discussing possible courses of action.”

*** 

Bardock surveyed the keep walls appreciatively. Two storeys high, cut stone, with the slate-roofed hall rising behind them, each topped with angular crenellations. Now this was what he called a building – not that he would care to live in one himself, but brewers and smiths and other important craftsmen needed someplace to stay. “Oi! Gohan!” he shouted, and his grandson leapt down from the battlement. “You got someplace to stow this rowdy horde?” He waved at the soldiers behind him, who now numbered some seventy. For an army composed of former ornamental guards and new recruits they weren’t half bad, if he did say so himself.

Gohan pointed to the side. “Take them to the orchard on the south wall,” he said. “You can set up camp there. And we got the plumbing working, so you’ll even have a bit of luxury.” They both grinned at that; all of the soldiers had grown up on starships, where electricity and running water were taken for granted. Bardock’s favored lifestyle had come as a rude awakening for them.

The orchard was, to Bardock’s mind, the perfect campsite. It had a low wall of its own and was planted with trees from all three alliance worlds, though none of the fruit was ripe at the moment. A small hut in the corner housed the sanitary arrangements. While the soldiers set up camp, Gohan opened a keg of beer and Bardock joined him drinking it on the castle roof. “Almost ready for the grand opening, eh?”

“Yeah, we’re just finishing the interior. It’ll be done in time for the party.”

Bardock nodded. Saiyans swarmed over the building like ants; it had gone up in record time thanks to all those who missed the old Vegetasei. Bardock wasn’t one of them. He liked the planet more without all those cities cluttering it up; it gave him more space to roam.

“Hey, grandpa? I’ve been wondering – what was grandma like?”

“You mean Kakarott’s mother?” Bardock lay back and let the memories surface. “She was a palace official, same as I was an army captain. Stubborn as a box of rocks, but level-headed; we got along well. I think she liked my sense of adventure. We weren’t really close; we had a standard breeding contract, two kids, one for her to raise and one for me. You know how well that worked out.”

“Do you miss her?”

“As much as I miss anyone from the old world. It was fun while it lasted. Besides, I bet I know where she is right now: drinking champagne with Vegeta’s mom, watching us and laughing their asses off.”

#### Part 2: Party Animals

“One, two, three!” Kakarott and I lift both ends of the spit at once and set it on its brackets. The fire pit built into the wall of Gohan’s castle is large enough to roast an ox, so that’s what he’s going to cook: an ox. I spread the charcoal in the pit at his direction, then watch avidly as he bends down to light it. For once he’s not wearing his baggy gi but a pair of snug suede trousers and his Saiyan-style vest. I surreptitiously lick away some drool.

“Vegeta, is Raditz here yet?”

“Yeah … sure …” Wait, what is he asking me? He turns me around, pulls me against him and tries to devour me from the lips down. When he lets me go I lean against the castle wall for support. I wouldn’t let anyone else see me like this, but Kakarott has seen – and usually caused – much worse from me. “You should wear those pants more often, Kakarott.”

“You’ve just seen why I don’t. You sounded like you were drunk, Vegeta.” Well, who wouldn’t be drunk on the sight of Kakarott’s body? We stand in a little pool of silence amid the ruckus of preparations; soldiers cart boxes to and fro with Gohan calling instructions from midair. Bardock, whom I’ve heard some people call the Bartender General, stacks kegs in the corner opposite us. In another corner Mirai and his mate are setting up the sound system which they have pulled whole from their nightclub. It threatens to rain, but when did that ever stop Saiyans from partying? Folded tents lie ready in case they’re needed.

As more guests arrive, Kakarott and I split up to mingle. A tedious exercise, though good for morale and especially for keeping my ear to the ground: I’ve just collected a beer from Bardock when my father’s former captain sidles up to me.

“Good morning, Prince Vegeta.”

“Morning.” Odd – I haven’t been on speaking terms with the old man’s cronies lately.

“I hope everything is well with your … mate.” The faint sneer on that last word assures me that this isn’t some peculiar nightmare.

“The King is better than ever,” I reply.

“Most reassuring. I had heard some concerns about his traumatic experiences.”

“Hn. Kakarott’s more stable than I am.” Which may not be reassuring. The old geezer drifts off, unsatisfied; I put the matter out of my head and ask one of Gohan’s clanswomen about megabison in the area. Through the morning three other older Saiyans come up to me, all with the same spiel. They remind me of my birth rank, imply that being Royal Consort is beneath me (I consider slapping one, but I don’t know where he’s been), and then question Kakarott’s mental state. Somebody is plotting something. They probably think they’re being subtle, but I grew up breathing intrigue on Frieza’s ships. I’m bored.

Kakarott has returned to his chair, so I go back as well and take my place at his feet. He runs his fingers through my hair; I lay my head on his knee and purr.

“Don’t you two look comfortable.”

“Hello, Raditz,” Kakarott says. I open my eyes on the most recent (re)addition to our family. His hair is still down to his knees and, as usual, his four adopted children are clinging to his tail. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” He sits on the edge of our dais and the children solemnly settle around him. “And as soon as I walk in the gate some guy is asking me if you’ve gone crazy. I told him to buzz off.”

“You too, huh?” I look up at Kakarott, who is looking back down at me. “That’s what you get for distracting me.” I tell him about my conversations with the visitors.

“Hm. I guess if I hadn’t had the purging programs knocked out of my head they’d have a point. But the doctors looked me over when they first came to Earth and they said I was clean. Someone’s scheming.”

“Ya think?”

Kakarott scratches his neck. “I’m not as experienced as you two at all this cloak-and-dagger. I’ll let you figure out who and what and why.”

“What does that make me,” Raditz says, “Minister of orphans and intelligence?”

I answer, “You’re the perfect man for it – no one would ever suspect you.”

“Hey!”

“Speaking of orphans, how are your children doing?” Kakarott asked.

“Well enough. Still quiet for their age, but Sesemi is starting to fly.” Raditz reaches a hand out to his charges, who have fallen asleep in a pile. “They still stick close to me, and I can’t blame them after what they went through.”

I smirk. So this is the real Raditz coming through, the one that was locked away from the planet purging and murder, from Zarbon and Dodoria and the Ginyus. He was the only family I had during that time – Nappa doesn’t count, he was Frieza’s lackey and a spy in our midst. We hid ourselves away, and survived; where I found my haven in Kakarott, Raditz has his in four little furballs.

Bardock turns his bar over to one of his officers and comes over to sit with us. Kakarott’s ox is done and he rises to carve it; I sprawl across his throne in his absence. A crowd magically gathers to receive his handouts, notably not including the people who spoke to me earlier. I suppose the honor of eating at the king’s table is not so important when you disapprove of the King. When the crowd fades away again there is little left but bones, but Kakarott has kept back a share for each of his relations. Including his four sons, who appear just long enough to collect their meals; Gohan is the official host and Mirai is busy with the music, but I wonder what the younger two’s excuse is. Not that I care, because Kakarott lays me across his lap, and our shared plate on my lap, to eat. 

A young clansman deposits a jug of cider on the dais and nearly explodes with joy when Kakarott thanks him by name. “See,” I say, “that’s how a third-class is supposed to react to royalty.”

“No wonder I used to piss you off so much.” He holds a piece of meat to my lips and I lick it from his fingers. Kakarott’s instincts are pure elite; it’s the result of living among much weaker humans, but he’s proved himself among Saiyans as well. Beginning with myself of course.

Drops of rain patter down on the courtyard; instantly the tents are unfolded and set on their poles. That is, except for the one over Kakarott’s head, which is being held up by a soldier at each corner. I can see by the set of their tails how proud they are to perform this simple service.

“It’s good to be the king,” I murmur. After the first few warning drops, the sky opens up and soaks everything in moments, surrounding us with muted white noise.

Bardock says, “I’ve never heard of a Saiyan king as popular as you are. If this was the old world, you’d have a hundred gladiators a day ready to fight to the death for your entertainment.”

Kakarott makes a face. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

‘Which is why nobody’s offered.” We don’t have the population to spare either. As the conversation meanders on, I gaze out over the gathering. The downpour hasn’t stopped the dancing, but has turned it into a wet shirt contest; none of the participants come close to Kakarott’s physique. I wonder how I can get him to take part.

He notices my train of thought. “I think it’s time for us to move to a more private venue,” he says, then stands up and throws me over his shoulder. My ki spikes in anticipation. I’m barely listening as he thanks the tent-holding guards and tells Gohan we’re leaving – Gohan doesn’t want to know the details. I wave my tail saucily at him. Then, with one last nod to his gathered subjects, Kakarott presses his fingers to his forehead.

*** 

Frieza: I brainwash little babies into murdering entire planets for me!

Kakarott (SSJ3): *flicks finger*

Frieza: *head flies off*

#### Part 3: Lemon in the Rain

We appear not far from the castle on a grassy riverbank; the rain drenches me at once. Kakarott sets me down so that he can take off his sodden vest and toss it into a tree. The rain makes his skin gleam – I lean in to lick the water from his chest, but he holds me back. “We have some tidying up to do before we get started, Vegeta.”

I remember the local inhabitants. “So you want me to mud-wrestle a sabercroc?”

“Yeah. We’ll each do one.” Kakarott … in the mud … with a four-ton predator. My pants feel tight. I can’t take the train of thought further because the predators are here, bursting out of the river towards the snacks that have wandered into their territory. I ascend to level one through an unaccustomed stab of terror.

Few things can scare an adult Saiyan, but sabercrocs are one of them. A pinecone-scaled body the size of a bus, stocky hind legs to propel lightning charges, jaws lined with teeth as big as my hand. I punch one in the nose and knock it on its tail. Undeterred, the sabercroc digs its claws into the bank and lunges at me. I leap to the side and strike it in the ribs. It whips its head around to bite; I jump over its body, heart pounding in my chest. 

Meanwhile, Kakarott is in a deadly dance with the second croc. He grapples one of its limbs for leverage and kicks it in the stomach. The croc bellows and tries to bite, but he’s inside its reach; he strikes it under the jaw. Lightning crashes down nearby, outlining his muscles in silver light. I’m momentarily distracted and feel croc teeth graze through my hair. I dodge and spin-kick the side of its face. At the same time Kakarott picks up his sabercroc and slams it bodily to the ground.

After several minutes of this the sabercrocs have had enough and flee back into the river. I immediately pounce on Kakarott: “Get these clothes off me.”

“With pleasure.” He tosses my armor aside first, then the boots and gauntlets. He locks his lips on mine as he peels off my body suit; I gasp as the raindrops hit my skin directly. I’m left with nothing on but my collar. He grinds his still-covered bulge against my groin; I growl and claw at his waistband, but he presses me down against the grass. “Wait and watch, Vegeta.” He stands up with his back to me, rainwater sluicing over his bare shoulders. He unbuttons the back of the waistband over the tail and slowly slides his pants off, then straightens and flexes his muscles. My eyes follow every line, from the hollow at the nape of his neck, to the pair of dimples above his tail, to the arc of calves and ankles that cry out to be nibbled on.

He turns around to give me the front view; I stop bothering with rational thought. A purr curls up from my belly and I stretch out on the grass, inviting him in turn. Another lightning bolt silhouettes him against the sky. I blink and suddenly he’s on top of me, his bulk sheltering me from the rain. He leans down and licks water from my face; the heat of his tongue sears through the rain’s chill. I reach out for him with hands, feet, tail; for once he doesn’t pin me down, so I grasp him with all my limbs, never to let him go.

His tongue lands on the hollow of my throat and all of my joints go rubbery. It’s slow. Tender. An absolute torture because it’s nowhere near enough. I can’t threaten; as I am now, I can’t stand against him. I can’t bargain, since there is nothing I have that Kakarott doesn’t already own. And I certainly can’t endure this. I’m left with only one option: “Kakarott – ” He nibbles my collarbone and makes me lose my train of thought. “Kakarott, please – ”

He chuckles, and bites my shoulder. Lightning strikes, inside and out. No one else has ever heard me beg, but Kakarott can crack me open in seconds. And the rewards for doing so are irresistible.

He lifts himself up and shifts so that his chest is over my face. “Lick, Vegeta.” I grin, and push up with my elbows so that I can reach him. Then I run my tongue over his skin, gathering water flavored with his own unique spice. He purrs. I find one of his nipples, which I know are sensitive, and nip at it before moving on. He is delicious; his scent and flavor fill my mind, washing all other concerns away. My body throbs and shudders. How will he take me? As I lie, or will he turn me over so he can press me into the grass? I don’t care which it is, as long as I can feel him inside me _soon._

He flips me over; my moan of anticipation turns into a whine when all he does is nip at my shoulders. Damnit, I want him in me – his tail wraps tight around my own, pumping gently up and down. _I want …_ His hand slides through my hair to tilt my head back while he sucks on my earlobe. _I …_ Firm hands stroke my buttocks, and I lean into them with a groan.

Only now, when I’ve forgotten anything beyond his touch, does Kakarott spread my thighs open. Instinct pulls my tail up over my back; he does his IT-lube trick, and slides into me.

I cry out in purest ecstasy. Vast shudders wrack my body, spiraling out from the burning flesh that pierces me. I can’t think, I can barely move; he draws back for a languid thrust and I arch my back against him. Kakarott has brought me to this place of perfect surrender and perfect security. I am dependent on his strength, and Kakarott’s strength is unrivalled in the universe. Every thrust brings a fresh jolt of mind-numbing pleasure and a growl from behind me. I know Kakarott is turned on by this, when I’m beyond even begging for more.

He seems to swell inside me; he throws his head back and roars as the fountain of his seed pours into me. This gift is too much, and I explode as well, my throat closing around my voice.

In the aftermath, my body is relaxed and warm; Kakarott slides out of me with a sigh, and we curl up on our sides in the grass. I’m on the verge of sleep. Reality returns with the falling raindrops, but thoughts of agents and conspiracies seem far away from this moment. I tuck myself deeper against Kakarott’s side and drift off to the sound of rain.

#### Part 4: Conspiracy and Lime

Raditz hummed cheerfully to himself as he stuffed supplies into a pack. The Full Moon was coming up, and his brother, the King, had asked him to make arrangements for the Fourth Fleet orphans. _My brother, the King_ – it still sent shivers down his tail. He would never have guessed it from the childish oaf he’d first met, with the power of a three-year-old and all the attitude of an elite. But just a year of training had made him strong enough to take Vegeta down, and the next time Raditz saw him, he was King and the strongest being in the universe.

So anyway, the Full Moon. Most parents of young children were sending them across the portal to Earth or New Namek, rather than shut them in a windowless room as was traditional. His chibies were old enough to make the change if they were supervised, so he was taking them on a camping trip with Gohan’s clan and their younger siblings.

And then there was the other little matter that his brother had asked him to investigate. That was easy; since he was one of the targets of this little plot, all he had to do was show his face in public and the conspirators would come to him. He made his way to the village store, which was crowded with Saiyans buying festival pastries. He expected to wait his turn like anyone else, but he was royalty now: the crowd practically shoved him to the front of the line, and the shopkeeper refused to take his money. He insisted on giving something in return and ended up kissing her; she giggled and smacked him. Women, what did he know? Besides his mother, the closest he’d come to knowing a woman was Zarbon, and no sane person would touch that thing with a ten-foot pole (though he had his suspicions about Nappa).

But that was beside the point. As he walked out of the shop with his bag full of bread, an older-looking Saiyan matched his pace. “Greetings, Prince Raditz.”

“Morning.” He only recognized this lady from the spy files he’d made up; she used to work for the palace exchequer. The name escaped him, as she wasn’t anyone notable.

“I hope your younger brother is well.”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Raditz slung the bread over his shoulder and delivered his straight line: “Why do you ask?”

“The Full Moon is coming,” the lady said. Wait, she was just going to _tell_ him? Amateur. “I note that the King has arranged to be private on that night; some are worried that he will encounter some difficulty.”

“What do you mean?” he prodded.

“All Vegetasei knows of the King’s, hm, delayed maturity. As his older brother, I urge you to take steps to ensure his safety.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind.” For about two seconds. He strolled away and then took to the air; as he flew he mulled over the conversation for his report.

This had never come easily to him; he didn’t think in words most of the time, so he had to translate as he went. Item one: the suggestion that he should be upset that his younger brother was stronger than him. That was bullshit; family was family. Frieza had taken that away from him, Kakarott had given it back, and he was not going to screw it up a second time.

Item two: they thought Kakarott was a few bottles short of a case. He’d heard that one before.

Item three: they thought Kakarott would lose control of himself as an Oozaru like kids did. That would have been a good point, except that all that childishness was an act that Kakarott put on to keep from scaring the humans. And besides, he’d already been through a Vegetasei full moon without any trouble.

Raditz shrugged; this little conspiracy was more annoying than dangerous, as far as he could tell. They were the old King’s butt-kissers and wanted their cushy positions back. And it wasn’t like the King was abusing his power by changing the planet’s name to “Kakarottosei” or something. If he tried that, Raditz would have to smack him upside the head for his own good.

*** 

I stalk through the hallways of the old colony ship, mentally checking off one more item on the list of preparations. This ship is being used as a hospital; Oozaru tend to get a little rough, so the medics are all ready for the morning after. I’ve delivered some senzu to them, just in case.

I’m still amazed that we never had any trouble when the First Fleet was on Earth, where the full moon comes every four weeks instead of four years; every full moon night that the colony was there, the sky was heavily overcast. I suspect Dende was meddling. Not that I blame him, since human houses aren’t built to take the occasional rampage. The buildings going up here are sturdy, and the full moon is rare enough to make a festival out of it. I’m just making sure it runs smoothly.

It’s also the perfect excuse to stick my nose into everything to look for conspirators. There are none here; as Frieza used to sneer, “Medics are loyal only to their patients.” Having been a patient a few times, I approve. As for the plot, I have a guess who is behind it and why: namely, my father and his status-grabbing cronies. When I exit the ship’s hatch on the way to my next errand, my old man is waiting for me. He must think he has a better chance of convincing me in person.

“Greetings, my son.” He’s going for congenial, but comes across as smarmy.

“What do you want?” I answer.

“With the full moon festival approaching, I wish to speak with you on the grand tradition of our family name.” 

He must be getting coached, he almost sounds civil. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Grand tradition? You sold a five-year-old to your conqueror, you let the use of infant purging soldiers continue despite the damage it caused our people, and at the final battle you sneaked away to save your own hide. That grand tradition? I’ll pass.” He’s red in the face, so I add something that’s guaranteed to rile him. “Still, it’s not all bad. Without your meddling I never would have met Kakarott.”

He puffs up like a scarlet frog. “That third-class upstart! You shame our name when you crawl at his feet like a common harlot.”

I smirk. “I’m far from common, old man. Only Kakarott ever found the way into my heart.”

“He chains you like an unruly dog,” the old man rants on. “He whips you until the blood runs! I know those marks when I see them.” I consider telling him that both the collar and the whip (and the ki restraints, which he doesn’t know about) are all my idea and my gifts to Kakarott. But before I can get a word in edgewise, he says something that knocks my train of thought off its wheels. “Does that creature ever treat you as more than a plaything? Does he ever allow you to bind him and flog the skin off his back?”

Memory – Kakarott, limbs stretched out by chains, his head thrown back in a transport of ecstasy. He commanded me to chain him, set the whip in my hand, trusted me with his life, with his pride, with everything. My eyes grow distant and a faint smile tugs at my lip. “Yes. Yes, he does.” 

I raise my ki and kick off from the ground, leaving the old man dumbfounded below me. The reminiscence has brought with it the urge to be close to my mate. I find him at his map table with his endless notebooks; he lifts his gaze as I enter, but he seems to sense that words aren’t necessary. I drop to the floor beside his chair, and when I see that he’s barefoot, I can’t resist; I bend down and lick him from ankle to toe. His unique flavor fills my body and warms it with pleasure. I purr, and lick again.

The stresses of the day drop away and the conversation with my father fades to unimportance. Nothing can be as fascinating as the skin on Kakarott’s feet. The hardened edges of his calluses. the creases across his toe joints. The soft underside of the arches. He glances down at me with a smile. “It’s a shame I have to get this work done by tomorrow. Tell you what: if you can distract me, I’ll stop and take a break.”

Now that’s a challenge I can get behind. I nuzzle his shin and get back to work.

#### Part 5: Full Moon Lemon

Kakarott has blindfolded me. We lie together in the meadow near our house; the full moon rises, but I don’t see it. I can feel it, oh yes. Sharp tingles run down my limbs to my fingers and toes; the fur on my tail fluffs out. Every sound, from the wind in the grass to a bird’s distant call, becomes louder. The scents in my nose are clearer, brighter; I smell Kakarott beside me and I’m instantly, painfully hard.

As soon as the moon has cleared the horizon, Kakarott’s ki shifts and he changes to Oozaru. The soft rush of displaced air feels like a hurricane against my skin. I stand, turn to where I know he is, only to bump into a furry tree; with a start I realize that it’s Kakarott’s foreleg. It’s thicker around than my whole body! He moves, picks me up; I lie in his cupped palms as comfortably as in a leather armchair. I have stood beside him in my own Oozaru form and I thought I understood his size, but not like this. He could crush me without a second thought; I wonder what expression is on his face as he looks at me lying helpless in his hands. In the face of such overwhelming might, my mind echoes with a single desire: _take me. Ravish me. Dominate me._

I reach out blindly toward the sound of his breathing. He lifts me closer to his face, and my hands encounter the soft fur of his muzzle. He whuffs, and the warm moist air wraps around me like a blanket. I run my hands over his muzzle, the cool pad of his nose, his lips. He opens his mouth slightly; his canines are as long as my hand, tapering from a broad base to a needle-sharp tip. Suddenly he tips me back in his hands and licks me, one long stroke from thigh to neck. I cry out as my body momentarily turns to jelly. 

Kakarott settles down on the ground and holds me against his shoulder. It seems I will be allowed to explore him; he always gives me the best presents. I crawl onto his back, where his satin fur is long enough to practically bury me. I roll in it, wallow in it, let every inch of my skin feast on his silken texture. I’m reduced to mewls and whimpers of pleasure, drowned out by Kakarott’s bone-shaking purr. Whenever I touch a sensitive spot, I feel his steely muscles shift under me. I travel slowly downward until I’m lying above his hips. I slide my hand into the crease between his flank and thigh, and all the fur around me bristles and waves like grass in the breeze.

Out of nowhere his tail wraps around me. It’s as thick as my biceps, and it holds me like a jungle python intent on a juicy meal. I can barely move; as I breathe out the coils squeeze me tight, then slacken to let me breathe in. It inflames me that even my breathing is subject to his will. I cry out drunkenly for more; it’s a good thing he never listens to me at times like this, or he’d end up crushing the life out of me. My good sense went out the window the moment he changed to Oozaru.

He rolls over and sets me down on his chest. His tail gives me a long caress as it slides slowly off of me; it’s several seconds before I come back to reality. Lying on his ribs I can feel his purr all the clearer. I root in his fur with my nose, breathing in his scent and searching for what I know is there. There – his nipple is just big enough to fill my mouth. I moan at the mere touch of velvet skin as I take him in. I His hand comes up to cradle my back. Completely surrounded by him, I know that no danger in all the universe can touch me. He tastes of musk and spice and very faintly of milk.

Delighted, I wave my tail behind me, ruffling through Kakarott’s belly fur, and – that is _not_ his knee I just bumped into. My pulse starts to race again. Frozen with wonder, I coil my tail around the head of his shaft. It’s huge! Bigger around than my thigh, and already slick with fluids. I crawl slowly backwards until his shaft touches my rear – I can’t help rubbing the tip against me, though I know it will never fit. Lower, so that I’m lying between his shaft and his stomach. I put my back against his fur and wrap my arms and legs around him. His shaft is as long as my torso; my tail curls around balls as big as my head. I slide trembling hands across his ridges, his veins, his bulging knots; my tongue laps juices from his broad head. I whine softly in the back of my throat, barely able to make a sound.

He’s overwhelming. Overpowering. He’s all around me and it’s still not enough. I press him to me with incoherent growls, hungry for everything he can give to me. I thrust my tongue into the slit at the end of his shaft, then dip a finger inside. I hear Kakarott’s roar; he raises his hand again and clasps me to his flesh, then moves me – up … and back … I cling on to him, howling as he pleasures himself with my body.

And just when I can stand it no longer, he pulls me off him, rolls over and presses me to the ground beneath him. He pulls off my blindfold; silver moonlight hits my eyes, and in an instant I change to my Oozaru form. Almost in the same moment, Kakarott thrusts his cock into me. My mouth drops open in a silent scream; he rides me hard, holding the back of my neck in his teeth. At last I have my fill of him. His ridged, knotted flesh brings me rapidly to the edge of passion; as I tremble on the brink, he pours gallons of scalding hot seed into me. It’s more than enough to finish me off.  
I come back to myself laid out on the grass, with Kakarott’s furry bulk curled around me. The full moon hangs high above us. I reach up to lick him on the nose:  < I guess you want to go and greet your subjects? >

< I want to show them that I’m not a wild animal – >

< Yes you are. >

He nips me on the ear. < That I’m not feral, then. And it’s a way to pass the time until you’re ready for round two. >

There’s more? My tail ruffles at the thought, but I’m still far too sated to think about doing it again. So he’s right, as usual. Besides, this way I can show off my just-fucked ass to every Saiyan on the planet and gloat that I have the best mate in the whole damn universe. < Let’s go. >

#### Part 6: When Oozaru Attack

The kids were enjoying the full moon. Raditz listened to their squeals and growls as they romped around the forested hillside; the youngsters all went feral in Oozaru form but they would still mind an adult who growled at them, so Gohan’s clansmen were keeping a weather eye out for them. Meanwhile, Raditz was making up with his nephew.

He’d started with, < Listen, I was a dick. I probably still am a dick. But …? > a wordless gesture, a questioning whine. Gohan knocked him over and nipped him on the head, then started grooming his neck fur: apology accepted. Now they were curled up back to back on a rock, listening to the sounds of rampaging children. This was the life. Even when Frieza had him so turned around he didn’t know if he was coming or going, he’d been excited to find out that his brother was still alive. Kakarott hadn’t appreciated his way of showing it, of course; it had taken a bad case of dead to get his head out of his ass, and this was worth it.

His chibies appeared and clambered on top of him. He nuzzled them each briefly; he still had no clue why they would choose him as their papa, but who could tell with five-year-olds? Kids did the darnedest things.

A flash of green caught his eye; something that was definitely not Oozaru had joined in the game. It looked like that magic Dragon, Koshubu. He’d scaled (heh) his image so it was about the same size as the Saiyans, and they tumbled around him trying to catch his tail. Well, it was his funeral. If a bunch of Saiyan kids came out begging their parents for Dragon steak, they’d know who to blame. Raditz whuffed a laugh; Sesemi slid off his shoulder and curled up in the crook of his arm. Beside him, Gohan looked up as a ki that could only belong to Kakarott came towards them.

The new Vegetasei was one jaw-dropper after another – the first few days had been pretty much non-stop – but none more so than the figure that emerged from the trees. _He’s huge … and he’s damn tall too._ Vegeta, walking beside him, looked like a midget (not that Raditz was going to say that to his face). Kakarott was ascended to his highest level, and his massive golden mane made him look like a walking hill. Even Raditz didn’t hade that much hair in Oozaru. Gohan trotted forward to touch noses; Raditz followed a little more hesitantly. Then he gave himself a kick – _you’re a prince too, dumbass_ – and boldly stuck his nose in Kakarott’s ear. Kakarott sneezed and gave him a playful shove; Vegeta laughed, and a moment later they were tumbling around like any of the children.

Raditz’s ankle-biters were, of course, right in the thick of it. Pom, the youngest, took exception to Kakarott roughing up his papa, and bit the older Saiyan’s tail. Kakarott merely lifted him off the ground. Raditz snorted and detached his son,  < You’re a hundred years too early to take on the likes of him, kid. > Pom seemed to agree; he yipped and hid behind Raditz’s leg.

Kakarott spotted the Dragon’s green hide, and he turned just in time to see him come out of the trees. “Hiya, King!” Was that a perm in its mane? With dyed tips?

Kakarott whuffed a question. “You think I’d miss this shindig?” the Dragon said. “Saiyans throw the best parties, and Piccolo doesn’t return my calls. Besides, I have to keep an eye on my colleague, there.” Another Oozaru emerged from the forest, but something about its stance and scent put Raditz’s hackles up. _That’s not a Saiyan! It’s one of those human shifters._

Kakarott seemed to recognized him.  < Karin? > he called.

With a pop the Oozaru vanished and was replaced by a smiling white cat. “That’s me!”

This was the person responsible for the magic senzu beans? Pom crept out from behind Raditz’s knee to sniff the newcomer, then leapt back when Karin’s fur tickled his nose. “I’m afraid I’m here on business,” the cat was saying. “I’m looking for an apprentice; it’s high time you people had your own senzu plantation, the way you go through them.”

Vegeta made a skeptical snort. Why tonight of all nights?

The Dragon said, “When better to see peoples’ true personalities?” While Raditz was trying to decide if that was an insult, he continued, “Plus, whoever it is will be helping me out as watcher, so I’d at least like to find someone interesting.”

“Not to mention someone who can tolerate isolation stress,” Karin put in. That was a tall order for Saiyans …Gohan suddenly growled.

< You want my daughter.>

“Well, Pan is one of the top candidates – ” Karin broke off as Gohan growled louder. Uh-oh. Raditz felt his muscles tense in response to the challenge. Full moons were known for their bloody fights just as much as the revelry.

The Dragon said, “For cripes’ sake, it wouldn’t be for years yet. Don’t get your tail in a knot.”

To show that he was not impressed, Gohan pointedly looped his tail into a knot before stalking off. Raditz whuffed and followed him; it just wasn’t smart to get between this family and their children.

*** 

Dragon Koshubu: Er …. Whoops?

Gohan: Keep your hands off my daughter.

Dragon: I’ll take good care of her.

Gohan: Don’t make me get my shotgun.

Raditz: At last! I have the ultimate power! I am Super Saiyan Level 3!

Gohan: Oh hi, Cousin It.

Raditz: T_T

#### Chapter 7: The Royal Tournament

“Where are we going?” Kakarott asks, shrugging on his gi top.

“To your birthday party.”

“At this time of day?”

Kakarott’s birthday falls two months after the full moon, leading to the age-old question, what do you give a man who has everything he wants? The answer reveals itself as I IT us into a grassy amphitheater – Kakarott’s throne is set up beside us, and hundreds of Saiyans crowd the slopes. A banner behind us reads, “First Annual Royal Tournament.”

Kakarott grins. “I like this.”

“It was Gohan’s idea.” The boy has calmed down a lot since the full moon, though he’s still not pleased about his precious daughter being recruited. They’re here along with the rest of the family, on the hillside behind our platform.

The audience quiets as Kakarott turns to look at them. Our usual announcer, a Saiyan with a booming voice and two short spikes of hair, steps up on the dais and bows. “Greetings, my King. It is our pleasure to present to you, on the day of your birth, a tournament in your honor.”

Kakarott’s grin nearly splits his face in half as he sits on his throne. “Best. Present. Ever. Now let’s see the contestants!”

Thirty-two Saiyan warriors march onto the field; their selection is my doing. Lieutenant Sharise from my training class is there, Gohan’s clanswoman Remon, a couple of soldiers from Bardock’s company, men and women from all walks of Saiyan life. Then the judges enter, five grizzled elders. They take their seats, and our MC announces the first match. 

Kakarott watches with fascination. I’m more interested in surveying the crowd; for the second time in history, the entire Saiyan nation is in one place. Soon that will no longer be possible, so we might as well make history while we can. Even my father is here, lurking with a group of other geezers. The Dragon Koshubu is also present; his form loops around the rim of the arena like a scaly green wall.

Since the tournament has been properly seeded (something the World Tournament committee could pay closer attention to), the fights get more interesting with every round. By the semi-final it’s down to Sharise, Remon, a fisherman and an engine tech from Third Fleet. First we see Remon against the fisherman. Remon has picked up some of Gohan’s moves; to my surprise, he fires off a near-perfect Kame hame ha, but it’s not enough. The fisherman shakes it off, and Remon’s used up too much ki; she goes down. Fishing on Vegetasei is dangerous work. In the second match, Sharise easily wipes the floor with the tech; my students are second to none.

“Final match,” the announcer announces, “Sharise daughter of Pera against Selar son of Colifar.” He gives the signal to begin. The crowd is hushed; no one knows how this match will turn out. It’s a contest of technical training against honed survival instinct, backed by raw Saiyan power. Kakarott’s tail flicks back and forth in anticipation. Sharise dances around her opponent, who is more than used to a slippery catch; she lands a punch on his shoulder, he plants a kick on her knee. Eventually Sharise gains the upper hand with a massive ki spike and knocks the fisherman to the ground.

The crowd goes wild (I’ve always wanted to say that). Sharise steps up to the dais and Kakarott, grinning from ear to ear, hands her the trophy. Sharise returns to her teammates with much shouting and backslapping; Kakarott turns to me. “Shall we show them a little something?”

“Let’s.”

Kakarott waves our MC over and whispers in his ear, then we walk out into the center ring. “And now our King and Consort will give a demonstration of advanced techniques.” The audience stills; they’re probably expecting us to fight. Kakarott winks at me, I smirk, and then we begin: “Fu-sion Fu-sion HA!”

*** 

I emerge from a blazing ball of light, leaping into the air with the energy of My transformation. “Yes! Vegitto is back!”

And better than ever. When I was the product of desperation, reluctantly formed, I was unstoppable; now, with My two halves deeply desiring each other – and Me – I am simply stupendous. The audience gapes up at Me as I bound through a warmup routine, and then I look around for a sparring partner. “Hey Koshubu, how about it?”

“You’re on!” the Dragon floats into the center of the stadium, solidifying as he faces Me. “You’re going to need more power if you want to fight me.”

“Power? I’ve got more than enough.” I rise gracefully to Super Saiyan 3, the pinnacle of My power. Then I take My stance and flick My fingers in invitation. Koshubu laughs and dives to the attack.

I slide out of the way with a counter already launched. This is perfection; I am the fusion of the two greatest fighters the universe has ever seen, both confident in their abilities, and both willing to trust the other with their lives. I have Kakarott’s pure-minded focus and Vegeta’s raw aggression. Even an Eternal Dragon is having a hard time keeping up with Me.

He is no longer laughing. I strike him with a Big Bang Kame Hame Ha and he is thrown across the arena. He returns, tries to grapple Me, but I am much smaller than he is used to. His tail hits Me and tosses Me like a rag doll, but I quickly regain my balance. Lightning punches, energy strikes; in the heat of battle My time limit approaches much too fast. Koshubu senses it coming and provides a finale: his projection shatters like glass under My fist and fades away. I hear the echo of his voice in My mind, “Let’s do that again sometime.” I settle to the ground and release My transformation just before My form begins to dissolve.

*** 

I come back to myself a bare arm’s length from Kakarott with his silhouette in my eyes. After sharing the same skin with him – after being one with him – I have only one thought in my head: I seize him by the shirt front and yell, “Get these clothes o – mff!”

Great minds think alike, apparently. As Kakarott devours me with his mouth, his fingers shred my spandex from my back. He yanks off my gauntlets contemptuously and flings them away. At the same time he kicks off his boots; I tear his shirt in half without noticing and let the fabric flutter to the ground. Damn, we have got to do that more often.

Vegitto is the ultimate expression of what Kakarott and I have. He’s us squared, with attitude to match. From the name – Kakarott likes the sound of my name – to the wisecracks, mostly from me. It’s no surprise that we come out of the fusion hungry for each other. I’m down to my collar, Kakarott to his pants, when a wicked smirk crosses his face. He turns me away from him, then hooks my ankles out from under me, throwing me to the ground on all fours. He takes is time undressing and lets me absorb my situation: I’m naked in the dirt at his feet, waiting for him to take me before and audience of thousands. He knows how I like to be watched.

I cry out for him, pressing my tail against my back. He drops down behind me, puts his hands on my flanks and impales me. I bellow my approval. There is no teasing today, just raw passion and pleasure. Within minutes Kakarott’s roar echoes through the arena as my own voice breaks off with my climax.

He lifts me to my feet and brushes the dust off me with gentle hands. I look around. Our people – all of our people – are staring at us, on their knees, silent with wonder and awe. Never in all its history has Vegetasei seen a display of power like this one. Our instincts are coded to respond to three things: a show of physical strength, of sexuality, and finally of affection. With Kakarott so deeply entwined with his instincts, I know exactly what his next move will be: he spreads his hands wide and calls into the silence, “Come to me, my people.”

They come. On hands and knees they come, bent under the weight of his majesty; I can feel it myself, and I was part of it. We are surrounded by a milling carpet of backs and tails, as Saiyans touch their faces to Kakarott’s feet – or mine, to my bemusement – and then back away to let others take their place. Our sons are here; the only difference is that they reach up to nuzzle our hands. Raditz is here, and Bardock; if he feels any shame at groveling before his own son, he doesn’t show it. My father is notably absent. Videl doesn’t feel the instinctive pull, so she’s sitting on the dais edge, recoding everything with her camera.

At last every Saiyan has had their turn and we stand in a ring of calm amid the crowd. Kakarott addresses them again. “Let that be my thanks for a great four years and a truly memorable birthday. Here’s hoping the next four years will be just as good.”

He ITs fresh clothes for both of us – show’s over, folks – and we fly up out of the arena. “There’s cake at home,” I tell him.

He growls. “I’ll eat it off your chest.”

#### Part 8: Angry Old Men

Vegeta the Elder straightened the papers on his desk with an ill-tempered growl. Since the so-called Royal Tournament he hadn’t heard a word from any of his allies, or any sign that they’d influenced those close to the King. He ground his teeth. What bizarre power did Kakarott have to beguile his people like this?

He heard a tap on his door and smiled as Captain Berjiin entered. The Captain was his oldest and staunchest ally; they had worked side by side through all their years of hiding. The new regime had reassigned him as a mere village mayor, so Vegeta was unsurprised that he had joined the current endeavor. “Captain, thank you for coming. I have not heard from the others in the last week.”

“Nor will you,” Bergiin said, his tail swinging from side to side. “I thought you should have an explanation, at least.”

It began to percolate into Vegeta’s mind that something was amiss. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I cannot continue in your underhanded scheme against the King.”

“What? Simply because of that extravagant display – ”

“Which you ran away from rather than participate in.” Berjiin lashed his tail. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice? Your reluctance to acknowledge anyone of greater power is unbecoming, and it puts some of your past actions in a very poor light.”

Vegeta’s face went red. Berjiin had come within a hair of calling him a coward. A coward for not groveling before a third-class upstart! “What of our pride?” he demanded.

“What of it?” Berjiin shrugged. “The work of a mayor is not so different from that of a ship’s captain; I had forgotten that somewhere along the way. You speak like one whose pride is small, clutching at every crumb.”

Vegeta opened his mouth to retort, but when Berjiin turned to leave it became, “Where are you going?!”

“I go to throw myself on the King’s mercy. Perhaps you should think of doing the same.”

***

Raditz was up a tree, doing his paperwork with one eye and making sure his kids didn’t fall on their heads with the other. If you asked him, a tree branch was the best place to do paperwork; he had a lot more chances to think about that these days. Child welfare and spywork, what a combo. The upshot was that just about everyone knew that on Monday and Friday mornings, they could find him in the biggest tree in the town square. Offices were for sissies.

He didn’t need to tune in his ki sense to tell if someone was coming, either, because all four of his chibies would quietly wander up and attach themselves to him. They could always tell if someone was just passing by, too. He didn’t know how they did it, but this time they announced a Saiyan whose face he knew all too well. Conspiracies, yay. He could have been out exploring the universe, slaying evil Dragons with a magic sword named Grignr or something. But noooo … 

“Hello? Prince Raditz?”

“Captain Berjiin. What do you want.”

The older Saiyan tilted his head up at him. “I would like to be added to the roster for the next High Court.”

“Why don’t you get – oh, for Kami’s sake, come up here.” Raditz waited while Berjiin hauled himself up onto the next branch. He didn’t look like he’d ever climbed a tree before; ship-bred types usually hadn’t. Raditz started over. “Why don’t you get Vegeta-jii to do it? He’s a minister.”

“I’ve had a … falling out with him.”

Oh? Well, that made his job easier. He’d expected something like this after Kakarott’s spectacular domination display – Saiyan instincts would be obeyed. That didn’t mean he was going to be _nice_ , though. “What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

Berjiin turned an interesting shade of puce. “It is extremely important – the King must know – please, my Prince …”

“All right, all right.” Sesemi peeked out from the shelter of Raditz’s mane, sniffed at the visitor, and made a high-pitched _churr_. As he tapped buttons on his compad, the other three chibies joined in. “Looks like I’m outvoted anyway. Sign here.”

Berjiin made his mark in the appropriate box. “Thank you, Prince Raditz,” he said before climbing down. “I shall remember your assistance.”

“Sure, whatever.” Maybe he could get a magic sword off Koshubu?

*** 

High Court is, as usual, not as interesting as Kakarott – the back of his knee is especially fine today, and I haven’t taken my fingers off it since we sat down. His clothes are a minor obstacle which he refuses to leave at home. Something about the formality of the occasion. 

However, I sit up and take notice when I see our next petitioner is my old man’s pet starship captain. Berjiin falls face down on the carpet – not so unusual these days – and begins, “I come to beg your mercy, my King.”

Hn. I would have said, _punish me as you see fit_ ; Berjiin lacks the trust to submit himself fully. Hanging around my father will do that to a man.

“Oh? And why would my mercy be needed?” Kakarott has playing dumb down to an art form (he’s had a lot of practice). As he intends, the question results in a torrent of confessions, most of which we already know about. Half of Berjiin’s rambling boils down to _I’ve been an idiot, please don’t kill me_! He’s obviously scared spitless. No doubt he’s heard all the stories about what Kakarott does to his enemies, and his own shame makes him expect the worst. Still staring at the carpet, he doesn’t see Kakarott’s faint smile.

“Come here,” he orders. Berjiin creeps forward until he’s at Kakarott’s feet, tail coiled tight with nervousness. Kakarott’s hand comes down … to scratch behind his ears. I’m in the perfect place to catch his look of complete astonishment; I hold back a laugh. Kakarott holds him there until his tail unfurls and relaxes, then tells him to sit up.

He happens to catch my eye as he rises; I arch my eyebrows at him and run my hand down Kakarott’s shin. My mate: he _is_ that good. Kakarott says, “Berjiin, I know you did what you believed was right, and in the end no harm was done.” Berjiin winces. Not just a conspiracy, but a botched conspiracy – oh, the shame of it. Kakarott continues, “Is your new job really that bad?”

“Well, no. I don’t envy young Turles the way he runs around like a spearhorn all day, either.” Now that’s a good, honest Saiyan answer. After a few more formalities, Berjiin exits – backwards, on his knees – with declarations of eternal gratitude.

“Forty years stuck with Vegeta-jii,” Kakarott muses. “Seems like a fate worse than death.”

“One more thing I’m glad I avoided,” I agree. “And who’s our next contestant?”

#### Part 9: Never Let Go

Kakarott is trying to drive me mad. He’s kidnapped me – that is, he’s ordered me to take a day off my usual work, during which he is keeping me chained in his office. Literally. Naked, gagged, wrists chained in ki restraints behind me, ankles chained to my tail, tail tip fastened to my collar, and my collar attached by a long chain to his desk. This alone would have me constantly hard, if Kakarott hadn’t also locked me into a little glass cage that keeps me from stiffening at all. It doesn’t stop me from getting aroused, though; I can barely sit still, and my purr is continuous. His scent alone has me delirious with lust.

He’s given me a challenge: “I’ll take that cage off you once you come without getting hard.” At the moment, that doesn’t seem difficult. Kakarott gives me plenty of opportunities to learn; as he works through his stacks of reports, the tip of his tail brushes my skin, and every hour or so he pauses his work to mount me. Each time he brings me closer to the edge of climax; each time he spills his seed in me and lays me down on the mat like his favorite toy. He does it without foreplay … because this is the foreplay, and it bodes well for the evening after I beat his challenge. I know I will succeed; I’m too turned on not to.

It’s Kakarott who brings out this side of me. From the day we first fought, I knew I must have him – to defeat him, so I told myself. But even then my heart knew which role I truly preferred. A desire that I dared not admit to the world … but Kakarott, he saw right through me. He obviously liked what he saw.

His pencil falls to the desktop with a clatter, and I moan through my gag. I know what’s coming: he rises from his chair and unbuttons his pants. I mewl and raise my hips – my pulse thunders in my ears and my skin prickles in anticipation. By this point he’s seeded me almost a dozen times, but here he is, ready for more. This evidence of his power just makes me hotter.

His fingers brush against my back and all rational thought vanishes. I writhe helplessly, pressing against him, but he draws away. Tease. Then he grabs my hips and slides into me. I’m on the brink already, his purring growl echoes in my ears, and he thrusts … in … out … in … and then – 

– My whole body spasms, stars dance in my eyes as wave after wave of pleasure surges from my core to the ends of my limbs. It goes on and on until Kakarott finally pulls out of me. He nuzzles my cheek; I give him a look of drowsy triumph. I beat his challenge and the result was oh so worth it.

Kakarott unclips my leash from his desk and unbuckles my gag. “My work here is done,” he says. “Now I’ll take you home and give you your prize.”

“There’s more?” I answer vaguely.

“You bet your tasty butt there is.”

*** 

He takes me home, removes my bindings, lays me in the tub and gently bathes me. “So how did you like that one?”

“You, Kakarott, are an evil, evil man.” I smirk. “I hope you have a second round planned.”

“Of course I do.” He dries both of us with his ki and drapes me over his shoulder – he really does like doing that. He carries me to our bed and lays me down, then goes to our toybox to select a few items. He sets them on the bedside table; I don’t bother looking, I’ll find out what they are soon enough. He lies down beside me and pulls me into a kiss. I open my lips to return it, sliding my tongue across his teeth.

Kakarott is always delicious, but now, after I’ve been gagged all day, he tastes like nectar descended from heaven. I lean into him, intent on devouring every drop of his scent. His tail wraps around me to caress my back with long, languid strokes. Through the growling haze of lust, I lift my fingers to brush the side of his neck; he purrs softly. Good. I press my chest against his so that the sound can rumble through me, and curl my leg around his thigh. My tail lashes across the blankets for a moment before wrapping around him in a mirror of his own. To go from completely bound, to completely free … is wondrous. We lie together for an hour or more, touching and being touched, speaking only with purrs and moans.

At length our warmth grows into heat and our heat into fire. Kakarott nips my shoulder as his hand urges my thighs apart. Fingers brush me, slide into me; my eyes roll back in my head. I never get tired of this. Minutes later he pulls away both hands and tail and I can hear that he’s preparing something, something unusual. He’s such an imaginative pervert. A slick object presses against my ring, presses in; it’s thicker than usual, so – ah, it’s his tail! He must have put a condom over it to keep the fur out of the way. The tip writhes deep inside me, touching places he usually doesn’t reach. He grasps my tail and starts stroking it, nibbling on my neck at the same time; I mewl and shudder under him.

He works his way up to the end of my tail, and to my surprise, unrolls another condom over it. Will I …? Yes. He smears my tail with lube and guides it to his hole. I push into him eagerly. His purr turns to a groan and his tail twitches inside me, which makes my tail twitch as well. My fingers knot in his hair; his hand grips both our shafts, presses them together, and he thrusts slowly against me. Too slow! I growl and buck my hips at him; he doesn’t change his pace, but he does start moving his tail in and out of me in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. I gasp. I howl. In mere moments I splatter us with my seed. He finishes a little later, more gently, but then he’s already come several times today.

Afterward we lie entwined, still deep inside each other; breathing in our scents, listening to our heartbeats, savoring each other’s presence. He is mine. I am his. And I know he will not let me go.


End file.
